#i should really continue forward with the in the shadow quest

[toupee-or-nottoupee]

yk i brought omi at first bc i personally thought he'd be funny to take along to the headmaster's office after the polyjuice. i did not intend for my brain to turn the quest into one big bonding time (and foreshadowing). it's fun for me but it was coincidentally a great choice esp with Niamh talking abt what darkness is and its value despite what it is. It's all very foreboding.

Also, just to note. my ravenclaw run is a no dark arts run so Ominis does trust the mc rather implicitly on such matters is how i perceive this. she's vocal abt not wanting to learn it despite still wanting to help sebastian.

Pt 1 / Pt 2 (you're here)

[angelremnants]

A TALES OF.. l Bound Intentions

OR.. When you find Loki bound and silenced, you can’t resist teasing him—until your playful banter turns into a dangerous game of wit and power.

pairing : Loki Laufeyson x f!reader

warnings : Flirtation and teasing, power dynamics, mild bondage, strong language.

word count : 1.7k

author's notes : I couldn't sleep. So, what better but to write about my beloved God of Mischief? Find the continuation here–can be read separately.

(ao3 version)

Your boots clicked against the cold stone floor of the dungeon, the sound deliberate and sharp in the thick, musty air. Shadows danced on the damp walls, broken only by the flickering light of torches. You entered the dim chamber, your gaze immediately locking onto Loki.

He was slumped against a crumbling wall, his wrists bound by glowing Æsir chains that thrummed with enchantment. His lean figure was restrained tightly with his arms pulled taut above his head, raised just enough to look uncomfortable but not enough to diminish the regal tilt of his head. A glimmering metal mouthpiece covered his sharp tongue, rendering him silent—probably for the first time in centuries. The dim light flickered across his face, accentuating the sharpness of his cheekbones and the green glint in his narrowed eyes.

You stopped in your tracks at the doorway, folding your arms and tilting your head as a slow, wicked smile curved your lips.

A thrill, cold and exhilarating, jolted through you. This… this was a glorious sight to behold.

“Well, well, well. Now this is a sight I could get used to,” you drawled, leaning casually against the doorframe. “The infamous Loki, prince of Asgard, silenced and at my mercy. Whoever put you in this deserves a round of applause.”

The silence was thick, almost oppressive, broken only by the faint creak of the chains as Loki shifted. Though muted, the tension in his body and the deliberate twitch of his wrists told you everything you needed to know—he wasn’t truly helpless. You took your time, your gaze raking over him like a predator savoring its prey. Loki’s narrowed green eyes glared at you, his jaw tightening beneath the mouthpiece, but he couldn’t do more than shoot daggers at you with his eyes. Unfortunately for him, it only fueled your amusement.

“Perhaps I should keep you like this for the rest of our little quest. It’s almost… poetic.”

Loki’s muffled growl rumbled from behind the mouthpiece, his body tensing against the chains. You clicked your tongue, taking a few leisurely steps forward, circling him like a predator sizing up its prey. “Oh, don’t look at me like that,” you said, sauntering closer. “You earned this one, being all pompous and stubborn as usual. Though, if I’m honest…” You said, sauntering closer and leaning forward with mock concern. “You really do look your best, all bound up like this. You’re a lot less annoying when you can’t talk. I’d even say you make for a good dungeon decor.”

The stagnant air seemed to crackle as Loki’s muffled snarl filled the space. “What was that? Oh, sorry, I couldn’t hear you over the sound of your dignity crumbling.” Loki’s eyes rolled, and he shifted slightly, testing the chains. They clinked ominously, but there was no give. You chuckled at his futile efforts as you reached out to examine the chains, your fingers grazing the runes etched into the metal.

“Of course, it had to be Æsir magic. Great, just great.”

You sighed, as if put upon by the sheer inconvenience of rescuing him. “Alright. Hold still, Princess,” you teased, enjoying the way his eyes flared at the nickname. “I wouldn’t want to accidentally set you on fire.”

You swung a leg over him, straddling his thighs to get a better angle on the bindings. Loki froze, eyes widening slightly, but you remained unfazed. “Oh, relax,” you teased, your fingers beginning to trace the runes on the chains. Her breath brushed against his neck, and you didn’t miss the way his chest rose sharply. “I’ll be gentle.”

The chill of the room contrasted with the sudden heat of his gaze, his chest rising and falling sharply beneath you. You glanced down at him, not missing the flicker of irritation in his gaze. “It’s almost tempting to leave you like this. Maybe drag you around for the show.” You tilted your head, your voice dipping into something more sultry. “I bet you’d hate every second of it.”

Your fingers moved deftly over the glowing runes, trying to figure out a way to lockpick the restraints. His eyes burned into yours, and when you finally caught his gaze, you froze for just a moment.

Loki’s expression was a mix of defiance and frustration, but beneath it all, there was a flicker of something unreadable, something infuriatingly captivating about the way he looked at you, even bound and silenced. For a brief moment, you were distracted, your fingers pausing against the glowing metal.

With deliberate slowness, you slid down your palms flat on his thighs to steady yourself, leaning in just a fraction closer. “You know,” you muttered, your voice low, “it’s a real shame. A bastard like you doesn’t deserve eyes that pretty.”

You let your gaze linger for a moment too long, watching Loki’s gaze darken, making a muffled sound of protest as you chuckled softly, your fingers sliding back over the runes as you returned to your work. “Don’t get any ideas. You’re still insufferable.”

Before he could move, you flicked your fingers, summoning an iridescent ribbon of light from your palm. The ribbon shimmered with hues of green and pink, twisting sinuously through the air before wrapping around his torso in one swift motion, pinning his arms to his sides.

“Not so fast, Princess,” you quipped, tapping against your cheek to indicate that you still had to remove the chunk of metal on his face. You grinned at his glare, fully aware he wasn’t truly helpless. Though, you couldn’t help but needle him further.

His eyes flashed dangerously, and you could practically hear the retort he wanted to spit out. You grinned, leaning in close as you focused on the last restraint, your fingers grazing his jaw as you worked to release it. When the mouthpiece finally clicked loose, Loki let out an audible sigh, though his expression immediately darkened.

“Call me that one more time,” he growled, his voice low and biting, “and I’ll show you exactly why I’m the god here.”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic,” you replied airily, tightening the glowing light binding him in an instant.

His lips curled into a slow, dangerous smirk. “You think this will hold me?” he asked, his voice low and taunting.

“For now,” you replied airily, tugging on the ribbon to force him to his feet. “You’re lucky I didn’t leave you like that. I was tempted.”

Loki’s lips curled into a slow, dangerous smile. “You should know that for someone so smug, you’re remarkably untrained.”

You froze, your eyes narrowing as you glanced at him. “What are you implying?”

“It means,” he drawled, his voice velvety smooth as the ribbon wrapped around him started to crackle, “that for all your talk of power, you’re woefully reliant on me to clean up your messes.”

You scowled, pulling back slightly. “I’m not reliant on you.”

“Oh really, now?” he asked with a mocking tone. “Then tell me, little lady, how do you plan to escape undetected? Let me guess—more glowing ribbons?”

With a casual flick of your wrist, your auroral rope snapped to life in response and tugged sharply, pulling Loki off balance to where you stood. “Careful, Mischief,” you said, your voice sharp, “or I’ll leave you tied up here and let the guards have you.”

“Oh, darling,” Loki said, his voice dripping with amusement as he leaned forward just enough to close the space between them, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re enjoying this. Straddling me, binding me in your light. I quite like this side of you.“ he grinned wickedly, his confidence entirely undeterred. “But if you’re going to try to outwit me, at least commit to it.”

A jolt of adrenaline surged through you. You felt the rough stone beneath your knees as you knelt beside him. The air grew thick with tension, the only sound the erratic thumping of your own heart.

“I’m not relying on you for anything, Loki,” you insisted, your voice low and dangerous.

He leaned closer, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “We’ll see about that,” he purred.

Before you could react, Loki’s magic surged, wrapping around yours like a conniving snake, his clever fingers slipping through the weakened edges of your ribbon. In a fluid motion, he spun you around and caught your wrists, pinning your hands behind your back as he flushed it against his chest.

You gasped, glaring up at him. “Let go.”

“Not until you admit something,” he smoothly answered, leaning down until his lips were just a breath away from your ear. “You need me, mortal. Without me, you’re just fumbling in the dark with borrowed power.”

Though your heart was thumping rhythmically, your eyes flashed with indignation. “And here I thought you enjoyed playing mentor,” you shot back, your voice not betraying your affect. “You certainly love the sound of your own voice.”

He chuckled, his grip loosening slightly as he stepped back, his smirk turning wicked. “Oh, I do enjoy the sound of my voice,” he purred, his tone dripping with playful arrogance. “But my tongue is capable of far more than talking. I can do many things with it—and my voice, if you’d care to find out.”

Your eyes narrowed, your cheeks flushing despite yourself. “Can it, Princess. We don’t have time for your… fantasies.”

Loki leaned in closer, his lips curling into a devilish grin. “They’re not fantasies, darling,” he murmured, his voice low and suggestive. “But I’m always happy to turn them into reality, should you ask nicely.”

The faint sound of approaching footsteps broke your moment of tension. You twisted free of his hold, your ribbon dissolving into sparks as you grabbed his arm.

“Save the lessons for later,” you muttered, pulling him into the shadows. “We’re not out of here yet.”

Loki followed dutifully, though his smirk didn’t falter. “Just remember,” he whispered as they crept through the corridors, “without me, you’d still be in that dungeon admiring the decor.”

You shot him a withering glare over your shoulder but said nothing, focusing instead on navigating the maze of hallways.

“Next time, try not to get caught,” you quipped.

“And next time,” Loki replied, his tone dripping with amusement, “try to learn something before you think about outsmarting me. You’ll need far more than light tricks to best me.”

Her smirk lingered as they slipped into the cool night air outside, the faint chill brushing against your skin. You cast a glance at Loki, his sharp features shadowed by the moonlight, and decided to hold your retort—for now.

The silence stretched between them, not uneasy, but charged with unspoken words and promises yet to be made.

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[jacksgreysays]

(Not sure if I can qualify for another prompt after the last wonderful prompt fill but here goes:

The Academy was perfectly fine with Shikamaru’s imaginary friend Shikako, until she managed to ____.

Oh dona, there are so many things that can fill in that blank. SO MANY THINGS. And, I’ll be honest, a lot of what comes to my mind range from funny to alarming. But the on that I think is the most encompassing—without being too boring—is simply “get caught.” Because that opens up so many opportunities for what else she could have been doing before she got caught in such a way that also builds a dynamic between those who are in on it (ie, the Rookie Nine, maybe even the full Konoha Twelve since Team Gai IS only just one year older) and those who aren’t (presumably the teachers of the Academy) However, in order to narrow this fic down into something writable, I should figure what Shikako is doing before she gets caught… and, maybe this is just me, but I kinda like the idea of… now maybe this is too specific… but basically, Shikamaru’s imaginary friend Shikako, aka his literal sentient eldritch horror twin sister that lives in his shadow, just straight up eating Danzo. Just. How do you get rid of something? Eat it. Because, like… okay. My brain goes something like this:

“Hm,” says Shikamaru as they hide in the treetops from Iruka-sensei.

Normally, Shikamaru is content with being out of the classroom that, outside from telling them the plan needed to ditch and stay hidden, he stays pretty quiet either cloud watching or napping.

Chouji, in his spot next to Shikamaru and equally satisfied with just being outside, is the only one to hear him. “What is it?” He asks.

That gets Kiba and Naruto to perk up, starting to get bored after their flawless escape with minimal conflict.

“Shikako says she’s hungry.”

Good friend that he is, Chouji offers some of his chips. A tendril of Shikamaru’s shadow shakily takes one, wobbling even under that weight, but Shikako is also a good friend so she eats it.

Well. She tries, anyway. Shikamaru’s shadow curls around it, mimicking a chewing motion, but it remains unchanged.

After a moment, Shikamaru reports, “Shikako says thank you, but she might need to eat something else specifically?”

Naruto, ever curious asks, “What does a shadow even eat?”

Shikamaru shrugs. “She says she’ll know it when we find it.”

Kiba, and an Akamaru squirming with eagerness, declares, “Akamaru and I are the best and finding stuff. We’ll get it in no time.”

—

Iruka-sensei finds them before they find the ambiguous “it.”

To be fair, they were searching through the refrigerator in the teacher’s lounge, and their self assigned mission had carried them through to lunch time. So really it was their own fault.

Didn’t stop Naruto, Kiba, and Akamaru from yelling and howling up a storm as Iruka-sensei grabbed the two boys by the collars of their shirts. Mizuki-sensei at least just gestured his two charges forward, trusting that Shikamaru and Chouji would cooperate since they had been caught fair and square. And plus, it was lunch time.

Distracted as they were, none of the boys noticed Shikamaru’s shadow stretch itself to connect to Mizuki-sensei’s.

Without that context, none of them made the connection when, not even a minute later, Mizuki-sensei stumbled, nearly falling, before catching himself in an uncertain stance.

“You okay?” Iruka-sensei asked, caregiving nature winning over his desire to continue lecturing the boys.

Mizuki-sensei waved him off with a strained laugh, “Ha, I just felt a little tired—midday slump, probably.”

Kiba and Naruto, sensing weakness, re-aim their efforts from complaining to making fun of Mizuki-sensei’s age. It draws his ire, never mind that he tries to seem cooler than Iruka-sensei, but he musters a woozy, half-hearted defense at best.

Shikamaru glances at his shadow, darker and deeper than it was before.

Shikako isn’t as hungry anymore.

—

A/N: And then something something Ino and Sakura spot the boys questing for Shikako’s food and they also believe in/like Shikako anyway so they try to help out, Shino gets pulled in because they end up on Aburame territory and he’s holding his smiling baby sister and his untouchable vibes are way lowered, at some point they’re like… maybe Hinata can use her cool eyes to FIND what Shikako needs (and she’s stalking Naruto anyway so we might as well actively include her) and then Sasuke kind of feels left out ALTHOUGH… I may have a separate thing for how Sasuke gets pulled in. Anyway the kids try to figure out what she’s doing—she doesn’t eat chakra, she eats life energy, but only out of people that she wants to kill anyway and the amount she eats from them is maybe based on how much she wants to kill them? (she really does almost eat Kabuto to death the first time they encounter him lol)—and they’re like… well… we also don’t like the people Shikako doesn’t like anyway? Here’s where plot maybe comes in and maybe where Sasuke gets pulled in but basically if this is pre-Uchiha Massacre then there could be a day when Itachi goes to pick up the little Uchiha members from the Academy and Shikako is just like ??? DO I want to kill and eat him??? because he hasn’t done anything (YET) so it’s just like… the rest of the kids investigating into Sasuke to investigate into Itachi which then somehow Scooby Doo style gets them to Danzo and MAYBE he’s being a creeper and visiting the Academy to recruit future ROOT agents or MAYBE the Academy building is near the Hokage’s Tower (I think???) or Shisui and Itachi are BOTH picking up the various Uchiha Academy students and Danzo tries to use the opportunity to intimidate/threaten them both “subtly” and Shikako’s just like !!!!! FEAST MODE!!!! And fully just eldritch style swallows him whole in front of some Academy teachers :) And it’s not like Shikamaru can get in trouble because he’s BEEN telling the truth about his imaginary friend Shikako the whole time. And as far as they know it LOOKS like a Nara clan technique so they’re like… well… uh… maybe we should tell the Jounin Commander about this. And Shikaku’s just like… uh… Kasuga… what the fuck… And Kasuga turns to Sembei-obaasan and also asks what the fuck… And Sembei-obaasan has to search deep deep into the Nara oral tradition for what the fuck is going on And Shikako is just in Shikamaru’s shadow, totally pleased with herself. I’m not hungry anymore :)

[shadowthief78]

Lyney/Reader

Genshin spoilers under the cut, for 4.0 Fontaine Archon quests.

Containes unexpected kissing and the barest slightest tiniest slight yandere Lyney, might not be canon compliant bc I got stuck halfway through trying to do quest stuff and came to write this instead.

I thought I was in a bit of a dry spell but it turns out I just needed some catboy coded manipulation to get back in the swing of things. I think all three of them would be subtly manipulative like this and I love it. Hopefully I can write more of them soon :D

This came out a lot cuter than I pictured. I don't really think Lyney would be an overtly violent or threatening lover.

The first time Lyney kisses you is right after Crowell dies. Your eyes widen, still focused on Lynette's, while her brother presses his mouth against yours in a kiss decidedly not appropriate for someone the prime suspect in a murder trial. The basket of food you brough knocks awkwardly against your knees, tilting you forward at an uncomfortable angle.

The supervising garde coughs. Lyney releases you. You steady yourself against him.

"I brought you food. Freminet was worried you would get hungry," you say, uncovering the dishes. Lyney's little brother had practically thrown bowls at you while you struggled to fasten your cloak. "Some might be a little wet. It's pouring out there."

"Thank you," Lynette says, taking the basket. "I'm going to the dressing rooma to share."

"Sorry it's mostly leftovers," you say, watching her bow bob as she leaves.

Her exit leaves you and Lyney in the half-light of backstage, the spotlights casting eerie shadows on the props. The garde moves a few steps away.

Lyney seems to realize how stiffly you're holding yourself. "Sorry," he says, releasing your elbow. "Overwhelmed, I guess. Crowell..."

You knew Crowell—were the one to reccommend him for the job, in fact. You glance at the curtain covering everything.

"Freminet's worried about you. Says there's too many visitors for him to handle."

Lyney sighs. "Poor Freminet. He didn't have anything to do with this. I feel terrible about it all, I'm not there to support him..." He catches sight of you again and gasps. "Oh, archons, what am I doing? You're soaked through and through. I was so busy worrying about this I completely forgot my manners. I'll find you a change of clothes somewhere."

Someone in the dressing room offers you a blanket and a cup of hot chocolate. Lyney continues hovering at your side, fussing. "I don't deserve you," he says, once his troupe has largely wandered off to rest. It's closer to dawn than sunset and you've mostly dried off. He sits at the edge of the pile of cushions you're propped up on, fiddling with his shoelace.

"I haven't done anything," you mutter, eyelids itching to close.

"That's not true," he says. "You keep the house in order, take care of Freminet, patch up all our costumes, organize the troupe, bring us food..." He trails off looking at you. "The kiss."

You look away. "Overwhelmed?"

He makes a frustrated noise. "Yes, but- Ah," he sighs, collapsing backwards closer to you. "I really did mean it. I just... probably should have waited for a better time. I hoped, after today's show, that, you know..." He dissolves into groans again. "Freminet adores you and so does Lynette. After this is all over, do you think maybe we could perhaps, ah, continue that?"

You see his face pressed to the cushions, rough fabric against his smooth cheek. He looks at you softly, like a dream, poised like a cat about to pounce.

Him. Lynette. Freminet. They all want to catch you somehow.

[crescent-blades]

[I'M SO SORRY THIS TOOK FAR TO LONG AND I'M SORRY IF NOW THIS IS COMING AT A BAD TIME- 😭 Also I'm sorry if I took to much control of Kokushibo.]

In the deepest part of a forest, moonlight hardly shining through the trees you stood. For an unknown reason, unless you knew yourself you stood in its small opening with little trees to get in the way. The moonlight shone nicely down on the ground, the levees caught in the mess glowing brightly. The forest was covered in these trees, all the same kind yet shaped differently like any other forest. Grass covered the ground and some flowers poked out, useless flowers as Muzan would say. The night was always cold, but the forest could keep some heat though, did it really matter?

That should hardly be a concern when someone is hiding behind a tree near you.

.

.

.

🌸💜 Kanao Tsuyuri had been sent on a mission alone, demons still needed to be killed and since she had completed the Hashira training it was safe for her to continue missions. So there she was, sent onto a mission into the forest that a demon seemed to be spotted at. She kept a sharp eye out for anything and noticed a tall demon far beyond inside the forest. The trees covered her way from seeing them closely so she quietly jogged forward, hiding as much as she could from their sight. 

Thinking she was doing well, she carefully unsheathed her blade and continued forward. Changing her direction every now and then. Kanao now was a few trees away, staying hidden behind one, finding a time when Kokushibo was distracted enough to hit him. What she doesn’t know is his rank and why he’s carrying an old sword, that doesn’t seem to spark a question inside her. What matters is cutting the demon’s neck, that’s what a demon slayer is supposed to do… 🌸💜

As the demon stood amidst a forest, the trees stood tall above him, their gnarled branches stretching high up into the starry night, casting intricate shadows that lay across the forest floor. The wind rustled through the air, causing his long, spiky hair to sway, while the symphony of crickets filled the air, emanating from the small bushes and delicate bluish flowers that rested quietly below. 

"—Useless flowers.." A voice echoed in his mind, a tone laced with irritation—his lord's voice—a reminder of their long, fruitless quest. 

"It has been nearly a millennium. At this pace, humanity may go extinct before we ever obtain that flower."  

Day after day, they would search for the elusive flora, or at the very least, the location of the Ubuyashiki mansion. The demon recalls that this mission had once been a privilege reserved solely for him and his master. However, after numerous unsuccessful attempts, they found themselves enlisting the help of lower-ranked demons.

The reason his lord refrained from involving humans in this endeavour remained unclear to him, and despite his deep respect for the man, he often viewed him as somewhat... 'foolish'. This was no longer a time for chasing after the 'blue spider lily'; those days of whimsical pursuits had long since passed—this was the time of war.     

Taking a deep breath in, the upper one found himself in solitude, standing amidst the foliage, kneeling down as he tenderly held the saphire flowers between his fingers.   

"Almost perfect.. until fate's hand intervened.."

 A flower similar in appearance, similar in structure, yet it had little to no value that the other—useless in comparison as it served no other purpose than to please the eye—ornamental, just like the rest. How.. familiar lamentable.

He concentrated solely on his breathing, attuning himself to the flow of blood in his veins and the gentle caress of the breeze against his skin. Yet, amidst the calmness, he felt a presence. Something was approaching, drawing closer and closer with each heartbeat. A presence that seemed formidable, stronger than the rest—a demon hunter. 

How convenient.. 

"Seizing your essence for another design.."   

Hiding behind the foliage as she remained concealed, a shadow among the leaves, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. A demon slayer—her heart pulsed with a fierce resolve, one with determination and courage.. and yet—deep down it also carried a sense of sorrow. He could sense the burden of her anguish—a life marred by violence and bloodshed—a life filled with the pain of lost loved ones and the remnants of past suffering. They all carried the same story— 

—Ornamental, just like the rest. 

"What does it feel like.."  

Just like any other demon slayer, marked by a young age—a mere child—her aura radiated the strength of a seasoned warrior. So much potential. As the man lay kneeled on the ground in the distance, seemingly frozen in place as he merely stayed there—still as the tranquil sea, when the whispering tide retreats just before the tempest's fury.  

Until—    

"..To be scorned upon by the gods..?"  

A voice, low and quiet emerged right behind you.  

//ooc: pff no problem, I dont mind! You can take as long as you'd like, no pressure. And nah, you’re good. Though.. I just hope I didn’t ramble on too much, heh.

[woodsfae]

B5 S03e15 Interludes and Examinations  previous episode - table of contents 

I don't think we've heard from Ivanova's personal diary before....it's totally possible that I'm forgetting one, but still! Exciting! Hearing a personal entry isn't common on B5 iirc. I will never turn down a peek into Susan Ivanova's head. 

And it's factual, bad news. The shadows have been attacking openly for ten days, randomly, all over the place. And there's an older guy looking suspicious on B5! The younger guy he's talking to I thought was Morden The Asshole at first, but that was just my moderate faceblindness tricking me, I think. 

Ooooo I am excited for the return of Adira! I'm tired, very very tired, of sad genocide Londo. Let's get some character arc in here, and I liked Adira. 

Wait no it is Mordan! Ah! That asshole! 

There's a new alien species reaching out for aid that Sheridan isn't giving much inspiration or help to. Well, I typed too soon: he has contacts and negotiations in his toolkit of resources. 

"I'm not questioning you, I'm saying you're flat wrong!"

is a great line. 

Dr Franklin is definitely still on the sims, but Garibaldi should have been yelled at. The security chief has no place tyring to talk to the emergency room doctors trying to save a patient's life. Get out of there Michael Garibaldi. No room for cops in the operating room, scoot. 

Morden: make your government start more wars or else Londo: I have stared death in the face and said "meh"

Elsewhere...

Garibaldi: I think you should do less legal speed and sleep more. Dr Franklin: I'm going to do more legal speed and sleep less, actually. 

Delenn and Sheridan's interaction made me laugh. And perhaps it foretells of the return of Kosh to the main storyline? 

This Garibaldi/Sheridan foreplay is getting intense. Garibaldi is staging a full-on intervention on the legal level. The hamfisted AA commerical is a little dull for me but could be way more annoying, as far as a storyline goes. 

Morden the asshole is continuing to be an asshole, charming the caterer slash personal shopped Vir was meeting with on Londo's behalf. 

lmao dr franklin. staring into the cold abyss of realizing you really really like coke. 

So Sheridan slash humans see an angelic, glowing figure when they see Kosh. Which doesn't explain why the original doctor from the pilot movie was so affected by a glimpse. Me, I'd be more "huh, glowing kinda looks like an angel...the universe is weird. Stitch him up!"

"You said you wanted to teach me to fight legends? Well you're a legend too." 

LEGENDARY. So legendary that's Sheridan's going to have to fight himself. 

"You do not understand. But you will."

Yeah I wouldn't like to hear that after making a bargain with an inexplicable and incomprehensible higher being. 

I'm too high to follow this space battle at all so it's great to hear Ivanova report that the Vorlons engaged the Shadows and were winning. 

o.O they brought back Adira just long enough to have her killed before she arrived! Morden, you asshole. 

Well, Lord whatshisface of Centaur who Londo half-poisoned. But Morden, ultimately, I'm sure. 

Bye Adira, sorry you got fridged. 

Sheridan's bargain with Kosh paid off, and now he will be alone and without Kosh's help when he goes to die on Z'ha'dum. 

Which is almost as ominous as Sheridan's dream vision. Seeing Kosh, Shadows appearing and disappearing, and then his father-bit-actually-Kosh apologizing for not believing him and ...dying? Seems like if Kosh could see this coming, then he could also arrange for some like, shielding, or some other Vorlon tech for protection. But it is about time for the stakes to be raised and the mentor figure to be killed off in this hero's quest, I suppose! 

The Vorlons think it's a bad idea to announce that Kosh slash a Vorlon? has died. So they're going to send a new Vorlon to replace him?? new character alert! I look forward to meeting Kosh-notKosh-Kosh. 

Londo still buying Morden's shit! Londo's revenge arc is, I glumly foresee, going to include more war crimes, and continue to be sad.  

Hmmm. I didn't expect Dr Franklin to resign! I'll be interested in finding out what he gets up to while he tries to do less speed. 

But not in the next!

[ofdeedsglorious]

"Welcome, @toadmiretoweepover, knight of Pendragon!" Llawgad grinned, spreading his hands in greeting to the man before him.

To think the shield of, what had been his name... Acricor? Something like that. To think it would have worked so easily to lure in a warrior of the Red Dragon's court! He stood from the rickety old throne that he'd claimed when this castle had been discovered abandoned in the wilderness. A slight twitch of his hand had the door being closed and barred behind Yvain, his men slowly moving in to encircle the knight. How lucky it was that the plan had worked, otherwise the message he sent ahead would have just made him a laughing stock.

"Forgive me for not having any fine accommodations for a lord of your...status," Llawgad chuckled, scratching at his stubble, "but we do have a room readied for you. Of course, should you swear loyalty to me then we can skip any potential unpleasantness. I am a magnanimous ruler, after all!" Not that he expected the Knight of the Round to bend the knee easily.

But it was always fair to ask.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was unusual for Yvain to be late when it came to predicted journey times.

Unusual, but not entirely unheard of, really. They were Knights of the Round, and usually they could disappear for weeks or even months when questing. Or even when doing a simple errand. But the elder Yvain was usually fairly punctual when it came to his travels. Gareth hummed softly, scanning the room as though her cousin were to suddenly manifest from the shadows in the corner.

As expected, of course, nothing happened.

"Speak, then," Arthur's voice rang out over the crowded room, all present turning to face first him and then the unfortunate messenger.

"I-I was ordered to inform you, u-under pain of death you must understand, King Pendragon," a curt nod from the King, "that, ah... That one of your Knights is now a captive of th-the self-declared true heir of the rule of Powys, to the north..." The reaction brought on by this revelation was immediate, whispers breaking out across the crowd. Her fellow knights had varying levels of annoyance and anger showing on their faces. Gareth clenched her fists, a sinking feeling in her stomach as she looked once more to her Uncle on his throne while the merchant continued. "He says... He will only free the captive should you name a champion from your Knights to do battle with him."

Well, nothing to it then.

"I will go, Uncle," Gareth declared, stepping forward from the crowd despite Agravaine's hiss of her name. "Sirs Gawain and Lamorak are away, as are Sirs Percival and Yvain. And Sir Lancelot needs to rest off his last quest. I gladly take the burden to defeat an arrogant bandit on the road."

A nod given with a blessing after a brief pause, and then Gareth turned to leave. To fetch her horse and armor.

Once that was done she mounted Thistle and, with a sharp whistle, set off from the castle. Powys was to the north in the mountains so that was where her road would lead. Through the forests surrounding Arthur's autumn court to a kingdom far older than her uncle's lands.

She had a cousin to save.

[storyofmychoices]

Sculpting Desires

[Mal Volari x Daenarya Blades 1 + Beyond] [Mal’s Orphanage] [Mal Volari x Daenarya Blades 2 AU]

Pairings: Mal Volari x Daenarya (F!MC) with Tyril Starfury x Maiele (@lilyoffandoms's OC) + Mal x Tyril? Book: Blades of Light and Shadow II, Chapter 5 Word Count: ~550 Rating/Warnings: Teen to be safe, just flirty fun Tagging: @choicespride, @choicesficwriterscreations (Bisexual Awareness—they all are but this is for Mal)

A/N: This started as an edit to the sculpture dialogue in chapter 5, and because I have no restraint when it comes to them, here we are.

Synopsis: Daenarya considers a possible future as a sculptor with a very willing model.

"I don't know..." Mal gazed ahead of them, surveying the possible danger awaiting them. "If I had to pick between me or a stranger getting turned into an ice sculpture, pretty sure I'd pick the stranger." 

"No, you wouldn't," Daenarya offered softly. "You're far too good of a man for that, Mal Volari."

"I haven't changed that much," he protested, his fists pressed to his hips.

"I disagree. If it were you or one of those innocent children you saved, you'd choose you." Daenarya couldn't help but smile. 

"That's different. They're not strangers."

"There were once." 

"They're children."

"Still strangers." She shrugged in amusement.

Mal schooled his smile. He had missed this. Missed her. "You're impossible." 

"Thank you." She brushed a tender kiss on his cheek, lingering there a moment. "Besides, I think you'd make a handsome sculpture."

Mal's fingers brushed against her hips, keeping her closer. "You know, Kit, if you're looking for a model, I'd happily be your willing canvas."

Her brow arched, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Are you sure? I like to work up close, really get in there—" Her fingers raked up his torso, relishing how his body trembled at her slightest touch. "—feel my way through it. I'm a hands-on kind of sculptor."

Her words charged with electricity sparked between them. Her fingers massaged every contour of his impressive form. "How does that sound?"

"Let's make some art together," he purred in her ear as he pulled her flush against him. 

"I like the sound of that," her words were lost on his lips. Her hands tangled in his luscious hair as their hands roamed each other, seeking inspiration for their future art endeavors. 

Before things could escalate further, a frigid cascade of snow fell from above, shockingly interrupting their embrace. 

With a mischievous grin, Tyril stood back, leaving them wide-eyed, sputtering in surprise. "The path ahead is clear, in case anyone wanted to return their attention toward saving the realm today."

Mal barely missed a beat. Swiftly shaking his head from side to side. He let the snow in his hair fly back out at Tyril.

"My apologies." Mal drew closer, letting his fingers dance over the elf's chest and bare arms as he brushed off the frigid remnants. "Next time, if you want your own feel, just ask. No need to be jealous—"

"What?" Tyril stammered, his face flushing purple as Mal's hand lingered on him. 

"—there's plenty of me to go around."

"I did not—"

"If you say so!" The rogue whispered. His breath tickled the elf's skin. 

Despite his protest, Tyril didn't move, and neither did Mal. The pair stayed locked within a breath of one another.

"I tried to stop him," Maiele offered, helping brush the snow off Daenarya. 

"We might have been getting carried away." Daenarya smirked playfully. "Don't tell Tyril, though. Wouldn't want him to think he's right too often." 

"Your secrets are safe with me." Maiele held out his arm to her. "Shall we?"

"We shall." Daenarya looped her arm with his, leaning into him. The pair headed toward the opening between the forest and the winter world. "You two coming?"

"Perhaps you should return your attention to the quest," Maiele added, echoing Tyril's words from moments earlier. "We do have a realm to save." 

The two friends continued forward without looking back, knowing their partners would be along... sooner or later.

A/N #2: the original version didn't have Maiele but I love him more than I care about canon so he is here too. Don't try to make sense of it, just accept the journey!

Anyway, thank you for reading. I hope you had fun with this silly scene rewrite/extension.

[middleearthpixie]

Promise Me ~ Chapter Three

Summary: Friends since childhood, Gabriella has long held back her feelings where Boromir is concerned, as she did not want to risk losing his friendship if he didn't feel the same. But, then he is summoned to Rivendell, and the night before he is to leave, he stuns Gabriella by confessing his feelings for her as well. 

But, war is coming and he cannot put off what he knows must be done. All Gabriella can do is wait for him and pray for his safe return. 

Fandom: The Lord of the Rings (AU, Boromir lives)

Pairing: Boromir x ofc Gabriella

Characters: Boromir 

Warnings: Pining, Battle, death 

Rating: T

Word Count: 4.5k

Tag List: @sotwk @fizzyxcustard @evenstaredits @way-too-addicted-to-fandoms @emmyspov @finnofamerica @lathalea @ass-deep-in-demons @quiall321 @mistofstars @glassgulls @justfollowtheroad @guardianofrivendell

If you’d like to be added (or removed) to the tag list, please just let me know!

Previous chapters can be found here.

A cool breeze rustled through the leaves, kissed the night air to make sleeping comfortable.

If only he could sleep.

For Boromir, sleep was not something that ever came easily to him. Not since he was a child, really. But of late, it eluded him more than ever. Even in a place such as Lothlórien, he couldn't find peace. 

While the silence of Rivendell unnerved him, he wasn’t any more comfortable in Lothlórien, for he did not trust the lady Galadriel. Having heard too many stories as a child about the dangers of her magic to Men, he found it hard to put aside his suspicions about her. All in all, he’d rather just continue on their way to Mordor, and Mordor was honestly the last place any sane man wished to be. 

But, the decision was not his. His responsibilities lie with the people of Gondor and keeping them safe and if that meant seeing the hobbits Merry and Pippin and Frodo and Samwise to Mount Doom, he would do so. He still wasn't entirely convinced destroying the Ring was the best course of action, but as he was outvoted, it hardly mattered.

In the end, all that mattered was returning home.

Without thinking, he reached into the neck of his tunic and gave a gentle tug on the silver chain that had remained around his neck since Gabby fastened it there.

“Your mind refusing to let you be?”

He looked up as Aragorn settled on the marble bench beside him, and nodded. “Something of that sort, yes. The little ones are still asleep, I hope?”

“They are. But what keeps you from doing the same?”

“I’m not comfortable here,” Boromir murmured, still running his thumb along the silver bear. “And I won’t be comfortable at all until this is all behind us.”

“What do you hold?” Aragorn asked, gesturing to his own throat. “I’ve noticed you fuss with it a bit.”

“This? It was a gift.” Boromir tucked it back beneath his tunic. “A token, given to me to keep watch over me. Over us, I suppose, although she didn't know about the Fellowship being formed. She didn't know about any of this, and yet she felt I needed it, so perhaps she sensed something.”

“She?” A narrow dark brow rose ever so slightly. 

Boromir tried to ignore the pang in his gut as Gabby floated into his mind. He’d never missed anyone the way he missed her. “She, yes. An old friend and one I look forward to seeing again.”

“We will go with the sun. We still have a bit of a road before us.” Aragorn leaned his head back and looked upward. “You should try to sleep some. And worry not. These borders are well-protected. No orcs or goblins or cave trolls will disturb us.”

Despite his growing sense of doom, Boromir managed a hint of a smile, although he felt no humor at all. They’d lost their guide, the gray wizard Gandalf, who’d fallen into shadow in the depths of Moria at the proverbial hands of a Balrog. Although he’d only know the man in passing, the sense of loss hung as heavily on his shoulders as it did on the shoulders of the hobbits, of Aragorn. 

Aragorn. The heir of Isildur, who was the reason they were on this fool’s quest to begin with. He’d been in possession of the Ring. Had stood at the edge of Mount Doom with Elrond, and despite the elf king’s insistence he destroy the Ring, Isildur refused. 

While he’d eyed Aragorn with some suspicion at first, and steadfastly refused to acknowledge him for what he truly was—heir to the throne of Gondor— Boromir had since come to respect him. He still strongly believed Gondor needed no king, but he did respect the Ranger and had also come to trust him to a certain degree. They were cut of the same cloth, both of Men, both ready to do what was asked of them in order to see the Ring destroyed and peace restored.

As he’d sat in Elrond’s council, Boromir would have never thought he and the Ranger who went by the name Strider, would ever be able to work together. And yet, there they were, in this tranquil garden, away from the horrors of Moria and given a bit of a respite, as he was certina more horrors lay ahead of them still. 

A low, mirthless laugh rose to Boromir’s lips as he shook his head. “I will find no rest here. No peace. I will find no peace here at all.”

“Why?”

“I heard her voice,” he nodded in the direction of the woods, where the lady and her husband had gone earlier, “inside my head. She spoke of my father and the fall of Gondor. She said to me, even now, there is hope left. But I cannot see it. It is long since we had any hope. My father is a noble man, but his rule is failing and our people lose faith. He looks to me to make things right and I’d do it. I would see the glory of Gondor restored.”

He let his eyes rest as he gazed off into the darkness. “Have you ever seen it, Aragorn? The White Tower of Ecthelion? Glimmering like a spike of pearl and silver, its banners caught high in the morning breeze. Have you ever been called home by the clear ringing of silver trumpets?”

He looked over at Aragorn to as the ranger nodded. “I have seen the White City… long ago.”

“One day, our paths will lead us there… and the tower guard shall take up the call: The lords of Gondor have returned.”

“And when they do,” Aragorn gestured to his own throat once more, “will she be amongst those waiting?”

Boromir smiled for what felt like the first time in months, and it was a genuine smile as Gabby’s face appeared before him, her white-blonde hair free and falling softly about her face, her eyes that stunning shade of silver they were when she was happy, her smile as bright as the sun after hurricane blew through. He ached with wanting to see her. The kisses they shared were only the beginning of what he wished to share with her and when he returned, they would make up for the weeks they’d been apart, for the years when they’d neither one been brave enough to confess their true feelings.

“Aye, she will.” He caught the medallion again and let his thumb graze over it. “And when this is all over and we are at peace again, I will never leave her side.”

“Does she know this?”

“Not yet, no,” he admitted with a wry grin. “It’s something that I think caught us both by surprise, although I know not why it would. It has been a lifetime since I’ve thought to share my best and worst days with anyone else but her. She knows me better than anyone else, better than my father or my brother know me. She—she understands. I cannot explain how or why, I just know she does.”

Aragorn nodded. “We should all be so fortunate. And we do have hope still. As long as we keep moving forward, there is hope.” He rose from the bench, his hand coming to rest on Boromir’s shoulder. “Remember that.”

“I try, but it is not easy.”

Aragorn gave a quick squeeze, then moved off into the darkness, leaving Boromir with his troubled thoughts.

“Master Boromir?”

He jumped at the unexpected voice and an unfamiliar elf emerged from the darkness. Unlike the Rivendell elves, those who called Lothlórien home were almost all blond, and this one was no exception. He was tall and slender, his sleek blond hair pulled away from his face and held back in an intricate braided pattern. 

“Yes.”

“My lady asked that I give this to you.”

“What is it?”

“I know not. I did not ask. I only did as my lady bid.” He held out a small square of rough-looking parchment. “It is from Rivendell.”

“Thank you.” Curiosity burned through Boromir as he accepted the missive and sank back onto his bench while the elf receded back into the darkness.

He recognized the red wax seal, of course, but had no idea why someone from Rivendell would be sending him a message of any sorts. True, several of the elf maids blushed and giggled with their friends when he’d passed by, but he’d not spoken to a single one, so why would any of them be writing him?

The wax broke, crumbling to the ground and when he unfolded it and looked down at the signature, he smiled. 

Gabby.

To his surprise, his eyes stung as he smoothed the missive over his thigh and settled back. Her handwriting was small and swirly and far neater than his penmanship would ever be, and it suited her perfectly, for he heard her voice in his head as he began reading:

“My dear Boromir,

“I have no way of knowing if you will ever even see this, but the Rivendell elf who rode all the way to Minas Tirith to bring me your letter promised me he would do his best to see this reached you. But he also told me you’d left Rivendell, so I can only hope that sneaky Elrond knows where you are and how to reach you. Somehow, I feel he must, so I will take the chance.

“Things are quiet here still, but the sounds of battle grow closer every day. Many have left now, taking refuge in villages far south of here. Dory and I are now in charge of the tavern, as my mother and father left several weeks ago. But, we are needed here, so even if I was willing to go—which I am not and you will not scold me for it when you return—I would not feel right. The women who’ve stayed all now work in the Healing Houses and thankfully it is not too busy yet. I still tend to get queasy at the worst times and I am so terribly embarrassed to admit that I throw up far too easily at the sight of blood and gore.

“I do not know where you are, or what quest it is Elrond has given you—and I know there is something because otherwise you would have told me. And I know it must be of great peril, because otherwise you would have told me. I try not to worry, but each day, that becomes more difficult. The sun rarely shines and rain almost continuously falls now and that does nothing to brighten my mood or raise my spirits. 

“I miss you. I cannot wait to see you. And I will chide myself for all of my worry when that day comes you are here once more. 

“Please be careful.

“Always yours,

“Gabby.”

He leaned his head back and let his eyes close. They stung. His heart hurt. His arms felt more painfully empty than they ever had before. Once upon a time, he’d have mocked himself for feeling this way, and would have refused to acknowledge that he felt it at all. But ever since he’d kissed her that first time, he knew what had been missing from his life. 

He pressed his forehead to hers, a sheepish smile playing at his lips. “I’ve wanted to do that for some time now.”

“I’ve wanted you to for some time,” she replied softly.

“So then you are not about to slap me?”

“Not this time, no.”

He chuckled softly. “Good.”

He looked about. The hobbits—Merry, Pippin, Frodo, and Samwise, were all asleep at the base of the trees not far from where he sat. Aragorn had settled down not far from them and appeared to be asleep as well. 

Only he remained awake. 

With a sigh, he rose, tucking Gabby’s letter inside his tunic, and walked away from the others. During the day, the woods around him glowed golden, but at night, the gold gave way to silver and that bathed everything, even the darkness. He envied all who slept peacefully, and looked forward to the day when he count himself amongst the numbered, when he would sleep just as peacefully. 

Finally, he settled at the base of the tree alongside Aragorn and pulled Gabby’s letter out once more to read again. He would not have the chance to answer her, not that it mattered, for he had not the words, either. At least, not ones he could put in writing. What he wished to tell her would only be done face to face. 

With that, he tucked the letter away once more and closed his eyes. They were leaving at first light and had a long way still to go. 

They set out at dawn, in small canoes along the Anduin and as he paddled along, an unnerving gloom settled over him, one that grew stronger each time he looked over at Frodo. He’d asked the council to pass stewardship of the Ring to him, to let him use it to defend Gondor and had been roundly denied. 

But why? He should have it. His people spilled their blood to keep Rohan, Rivendell, Middle Earth, as safe as possible. Elrond owed it to Boromir to be the one to wield the power of the Ring to destroy Sauron before Sauron could reclaim it and unleash all of its evil power upon Middle Earth.

But no. Instead, it was given to Frodo Baggins, a Hobbit not quite half his size, who knew neither how to fight nor defend himself. He knew books and gardening, tea and food. 

And yet he would be the one to save all of them.

As they drew near Parth Galen, Aragorn led them ashore. “We will remain here until dark and continue on then.”

Legolas, the Mirkwood elf who barely looked old enough to be away from home, shook his head. “We should keep moving.”

“No,” Aragorn told him, shaking his head. “Orcs patrol here…”

Boromir left them to their debating, climbing up along the rocky ledge leading to Akon Hen, to go a bit deeper into the forest. They needed wood for a fire, so wood he would gather. Besides, it helped to take his mind off thoughts that grew darker and more troubling by the hour.

He tried to distract himself. Tried to bring Gabby’s face into his mind, but she wouldn’t come to him. Instead, all he heard was a whisper. Soft. Seductive. At first, he thought perhaps it was simply baser urges playing tricks on his mind—teasing him with the same lustful thoughts that swirled through him when he’d kissed Gabby that first time, the ones that made him ache with wanting to touch her, to feel her skin bare against his, to feel her under him, wrapped all around him. 

But this whisper was not the one of desire. At least, not for Gabby. That lay beneath it, somewhat smothered by it since they’d left Lothlórien, and as he crested the slope, his arms laden with wood, and Frodo came into view, the whisper grew louder. 

Take it.

His gloved fingers tightened about the rough wood with its peeling bark. No. He was stronger than this. 

You should carry it. He is but a halfling, soft and weak. You are a warrior. A solider. A man. 

He squeezed his eyes shut as he tried to still that silken seductive voice that grew louder still. But he couldn't drown it out. It grew far too loud.

“None of us should wander alone,” he said, glancing over to see Frodo jump. The hobbit looked up at him, and Boromir continued, “You least of all. So much depends on you.”

Take it.

“Frodo?”

The halfling continued staring up at him, his expression blank. 

His arms still laden with wood, Boromir strolled toward Frodo. “I know why you seek solitude. You suffer. I see it day by day. Are you sure you do not suffer needlessly?”

Frodo still said nothing, so Boromir went on, “There are other ways, Frodo. Other paths we might take.”

“I know what you would say,” Frodo finally replied, not blinking as he held Boromir’s stare. “It would seem like wisdom, but for the warning in my heart.”

“Warning?” Boromir stiffened slightly.

Take it now.

He stepped closer to Frodo. “Against what?”

His back against a toppled stone head, Frodo skirted along it, keeping distance between him and Boromir, which almost made Boromir laugh. The tiny creature honestly thought that he could get away, could bolt like a frightened rabbit, if Boromir decided to snag him.

Little simple fool.

It’s yours. Take it.

“We’re all afraid, Frodo,” he said, following as the hobbit backed up the path Boromir had just trod. “But to let that fear drive us, to destroy out hope… don’t you see that it madness?”

To his credit, Frodo’s normally soft voice remained even and clear. “There is no other way.”

Irritation shot through Boromir, made his spine stiffen and his shoulders tense. “I ask only for the strength to defend my people!”

As he spoke, he slammed the wood to the ground, sending it rolling and bouncing in all directions as fury surged through him.

Do it now!

“If you would lend me the Ring—”

“No.”

The fury burned hotter through Boromir’s veins now, and for every step backwards Frodo took, Boromir took one closer to him. “Why do you recoil? I’m no thief.”

“You are not yourself.” 

He almost smiled at the halfling. Almost. “What chance do you think you have? They will find you. They will take the ring. And you will beg for death before the end!”

His voice echoed around them as it rose with each word. That voice in his head was a shout now, a roar as it commanded him to keep walking toward Frodo.

Frodo turned away to quickly walk up the hill. Boromir stood rooted to his spot for a long moment as a red haze fell before his eyes. “You fool. It is not yours, save by chance. It could have been mine.”

He gave chase then, the red haze guiding him, the voice urging him.

Knock him down. Choke him. TAKE IT!

“It should be mine!” He threw himself at the hobbit, caught him about the waist to drag him down and slammed him into the ground. “Give it to me!”

Frodo fought back with a strength that took Boromir by surprise. The hobbit flipped onto his back and Boromir lunged. “Give it to me!”

Frodo fought to knock Boromir’s hands away from him, his bare feet thudding against the leaves and dirt as he tried to propel himself out from under the much bigger man, his voice ringing out as he cried, “No!”

“Give it!”

“No!”

Then, like that, the hobbit put the Ring on and simply disappeared. Boromir sat back, the red haze before his eyes redder still. “I see your mind! You will take the Ring to Sauron!” He shouted this as he looked about for the signs of where Frodo might have gone, to no avail. “You will betray us! You’ll go to your death, to the death of us all!”

He scrambled to his feet, fury pumping through him with each heartbeat. “Curse you! Curse you and all the halflings!”

In his fury, his boot caught one of the pieces of kindling and he tripped over it. He slammed back facedown into the ground and slid partway back down the slope and as he did, the voice inside his head vanished and the red haze fell away as sorrow and regret washed over him like tidal waves.

“Oh… oh, no…” He lifted his head, looking wildly about as he called, “Frodo?”

The realization of what he’d done, of what he’d tried to do and what he’d said hit him all at once. His throat tightened, tears stung the backs of his eyes and hot shame poured down over him. “Frodo…”

He slowly sat up. Broken bits of leaf clung to his hair, dirt spattered his trousers and tunic and cloak, and there was no sign of the hobbit. “What have I done?” His voice broke on the last word. “Please, Frodo…”

There was no sign of him anywhere. But that didn't mean he was out of earshot, so Boromir raised his voice. “Please, Frodo, I’m sorry!”

But the hobbit had gone.

Boromir got to his feet. What was he going to tell the others? How did he confess to what he’d tried to do and not find himself cast out as a traitor? He had to find Frodo, had to prove to him—to prove to all of them—he’d not hurt the little fellow, that it was but a momentary weakness that grabbed hold of him. 

He had to find all of them

Before it was too late.

His heart hammered a furious rhythm against his ribs as he heard the orcs before he saw them and as he leapt over the ridge, Merry and Pippin came into view. Boromir landed between orcs and hobbits, sword drawn, the Great Horn in reach if he needed it.  

He swung, cleaving the first two creatures in half. The hobbits, each with a weapon of their own, threw themselves headlong into the fray.

But there were too many of them. His sword in one hand, Boromir grabbed the horn that kept banging against his hip and brought it to his lips.

The bleat rang out through the forest, hopefully throughout Gondor, all the way to Rohan, and all points west, for all who heard the sound would respond. Any reinforcements at all would be welcomed.

He blew again, then lowered it, looking over at Merry and Pippin. “Run! Just run!”

They started off, but then stopped. “Fools!” he bellowed again. “Run!”

He leaped between them and the orcs, spun about to take out whatever he could to give them a chance to get away. Whatever time he could buy them, he would.

He never saw the first arrow coming until it slammed into his chest, just below his collarbone. The breath left his body in a mighty rush and the force knocked him back a step. Everything around him went silent as a fireball of pain exploded inside him and drove him to his knees. 

Fury bubbled forth, giving him the strength to thrust up to his feet once more and swing. The arrow’s movement drove more heat through him, but he ignored it as the red haze fell before his eyes again. Two more orcs fell. Sweat bathed him, dripped from him as he fought to remain on his feet. His left arm useless now, he gripped tighter with his right even as he saw the Uruk-hai draw his bow once more.

The second arrow hit him in the thigh. He sank to his knees, unable to hold back his howl of pain at the fire scorching through him from the reverberations. The red haze softened. His legs refused to hold him and he looked up at the two halflings staring at him. He’d failed them. He’d failed Frodo.

He’d break his promise to Gabby.

Gabby.

“The side of my face grows hot.” He stopped and turned toward her. “Going to tell me you aren’t staring again?”

“Not this time, no.” She shook her head. “I am instead trying to find a reason to convince you to stay.”

“Gabby,” he knew why she said what she did, and it did bring something of a smile to his lips, “please stop. Staying is not an option. You know this, so please stop asking me to.”

“I know, I sound like a child and I pout like one, but I’m terrified something will happen to you. Something terrible.”

He caught her hands in his and his heartbeat sped up as the air crackled all around them.  Her hands were so tiny, so soft, in his, and touching her felt right. “I will be fine and when I return, you will laugh at yourself for being so worried.”

“And if you aren’t? If you don’t?” She looked up at him. “I know that sounds so ominous and dramatic, but—”

“Gabby,” he broke in gently, giving her hands a slight squeeze. “I will.”

Thunder rolled low in the distance as he held her gaze and his heart sped up as she whispered, “Promise me.”

“I promise you. And perhaps by then you will have finally worked up both the nerve and the strength to knock me down.”

“I most definitely will.”

He winked. “Promise me.”

“I promise you.”

“Good.” He bobbed his head slightly. “Because I will be back. I have a very good reason to be, you know.”

He’d kissed her then, her lips soft and teasing and every bit as sensual and passionate as he’d imagined.

The bear medallion thudded softly against his chest as he swayed and fought to remain upright, to get back up and finish what they had started.

“I am, yes. As I said, I expect it back, so now you have a reason to return.”

“I have more than one reason, Gabby. And I will return.”

Her eyes shimmered with tears as she nodded slowly and whispered, “Promise me.”

“I promise you.” He bent to her, his kiss light and gentle and when he drew back, her eyes still shimmered. “I will be back.”

He let out a roar of pain that could most likely be heard in Rivendell itself and shoved himself up once more. He swung, each orc felled by his blade fueling him to swing again.

The third arrow sent him back to his knees as it sank into his thigh beside the first. He couldn't get back to his feet now, swayed as he knelt there, Gabby’s face floating before him, pain radiating through him. 

He looked up at the foul creature standing before him, bow drawn once more and refused to look away. He would show no fear by looking away. Besides, it no longer mattered. He no longer saw the orc. The orc no longer existed. 

Gabby stood there, serene and beautiful, in her favored trousers and tunic that hugged her curves and caused the most deliciously, absolutely completely wicked thoughts to course through his mind when he looked at her. 

I love you. 

A flutter of movement caught his attention, but it was no more than a blur as the blackness rushed at him from all directions and he slumped to the ground. 

[lunas-otome-blog]

Luna's Review: Collar x Malice

Official Summary:

A dangerous shadow organization launches a campaign of fear and violence in the city of Shinjuku, pushing society to the brink of chaos. As a young police officer tasked with restoring order, you become the target of an attack, and have a poisonous collar attached to your neck. With the situation spiraling out of control and time running out, five mysterious strangers appear to aid you in your quest for the truth.

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(Spoiler Free) Luna's Thoughts:

This was the otome game that got me into otome games for the switch. Before CxM, I was pretty much exclusively playing indie vns on itch.io. Which are lovely and often well-written, but usually smaller productions and thus much shorter and done on a smaller budget. CxM was the first full-length otome I played and it made me think, incorrectly it turns out, that all professionally made otomes were as good as this one. As you'll note by my other review (and future ones to come), CxM imposed extremely high standards and it's perhaps unfair to compare other games to it.

It's tightly plotted, has an interesting cast of characters and features beautiful art. The limited color palettes and washed-out backgrounds and coloring style give the game an ominous feel that works very well with its dark murder mystery premise.

This game also does something I really enjoy, which is that it makes the "routes" make sense. Often in otome games, things happen in routes that should, by all means, happen whether you're on the character's route or not. For example, in Mystic Messenger, Zen sprains his ankle in three of the routes, but not in Jumin's route or 707's route. This doesn't really make sense, because why would you cozying up to those characters prevent Zen from spraining his ankle?

But in CxM, you choose the character you want to investigate with, providing a realistic explanation for why you are only dealing with that particular character. This is a small detail but I really appreciated it.

I did think it was a little silly to have numerous random dead ends, but I suppose that sort of thing isn't uncommon in these types of games. I did like that it gives you a chance to see the stars of other routes before you get to properly meet them. It adds to the intrigue.

While it has its flaws, including several editing errors, I ultimately really liked this game. It felt satisfying to solve the mystery and the game actually gives you an opportunity to guess the culprit, letter by letter, which felt nerve-wracking and awesome. The characters were fun and the darkness felt congruent with what I was expecting going in.

I'm looking forward to doing some art of these characters soon.

Please find below my thoughts on each route, in the order I played them.

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(SPOILERS)

Takeru Sasazuka Route

Allow me to start by saying this is not my favorite character archetype. I just don't love characters who are openly hostile toward others and continue to be mean even after the MC has earned their affection.

That said, Sasazuka's love for donuts was the gap moe I needed to get on board, if only because he reminded me of L from Death Note.

Sasazuka's route kicks off a trend of largely reasonable decisions in this game. He has a simple but understandable motivation for wanting to solve the X Day incidents, simultaneously jabbing at American gun laws. (We deserve it.)

This route also sees Ichika getting drunk — cute!

I'd rate this route my second favorite out of the game.

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(SPOILERS)

Kageyuki Shiraishi Route

This is another character archetype I don't love — the overconfident flirt. That's why I played him second, though I was recommended against it. Technically you should play him fourth, right before the true end route, but I didn't particularly mind the order because I didn't love this route.

I admit he's kind of a fun character, because he's hella suspicious right at the beginning, and kind of suggests he's the traitor, to the point where when he's revealed to, in fact, be the traitor, I was kinda surprised. He also has a cat theme going on, which is very cute.

His backstory is pretty straightforward, but relies on mind manipulation tropes, so it wasn't as convincing as some of the others. I would have been more satisfied with a split personality sort of thing, or even if he was a traitor by his own will. Instead, he seems fully aware of everything that's going on, including his own brainwashing, but doesn't act like he has any internal conflict except at strategic moments in the plot.

It would have been a lot more interesting have him either unaware of his own transgressions until later, or have him willingly be a member of Adonis who becomes conflicted as he grows closer to Ichika.

Maybe this is just a weird, roundabout way of saying I wanted him to suffer more lol.

Shiraishi does get the short end of the stick, as his good ending has him losing his memories. But you know our girl Ichika will set him straight again.

.

(SPOILERS)

Mineo Enomoto Route

I love me a tsundere, so it's no surprise this was my favorite route in the game. It was fairly lighthearted compared to the others because Mineo is such a goof, but it was a nice break in the darkness and I'm glad I played his route right in the middle.

This character is so cute, and a total idiot with no idea how to talk to girls. He's picked on so much by the other characters in the game and I just wanted to show him some love.

He sucks at thinking, but the best scenes are the ones in which he springs into action, showing his prowess in the field. Typically these meathead athletic characters are not my favorite, but Mineo was undeniably cool jumping off rooftops and such.

I love love love Mineo's relationship with Ichika's little brother. Their friendship was honestly so refreshing and adorable.

There is some silliness at the end where they set up a fake talk show, but ultimately it was done in good spirits with the idea of forgiveness. To top it off, this idiot actually proposes at the end of his route. It was a silly but sweet ending for a sweet character.

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(SPOILERS)

Kei Okazaki Route

This was probably my least favorite route in the game, but only because I didn't think they went far enough with the theme.

Okazaki is a listless man who has witnessed tragedy and desires nothing more than a riteous way to die. Which is a horrifying premise, but I was never fully convinced by it. I didn't feel like his relationship with Ichika progressed naturally and I didn't come to care for him in the way I wanted to.

I think this route would have been more impactful if there was more of a disconnect between his goals and his personality. He was a little too bland to make his death wish truly a shock. I felt like he should have been more cheerful to create cognitive dissonance between his persona and his goals. He kind of feels like the outline of a character rather than a character itself.

Not to mention the game lacks a genki character archetype. Wouldn't it be more interesting to have a cheerful character who turns out to be utterly empty and suicidal?

I guess what I'm saying is I wish there was more to Okazaki. To me, he was the least developed character and the least interesting.

.

(SPOILERS)

Aiji Yanagi Route

I remember something telling me before I played Yanagi's route that it was boring, and they were kinda right lol.

Like, it was fine. There wasn't anything technically wrong with it. He just doesn't have the most interesting backstory. When he was a teen, he protected young Ichika by beating up her kidnapper, and he felt bad for it for the rest of his life and now spends his time trying to atone for it.

My least favorite part of this route was discovering that Ichika had a traumatic event in her past that was not even mentioned in the common or other routes. So it made Yanagi's connection to her seem really sudden.

Yanagi is a reasonable guy. But he lacks that wow factor that you hope for in a main character. There isn't any way to describe him that makes him sound interesting. He could have easily been improved any number of ways. The easiest would have been giving him some sort of anger management issues. Or at least a more extreme personality.

I did like his chats with Ichika on the roof of the police station, and I like that he has doubts about their age gap and gets embarassed calling her by her first name. He's a sweet guy. Just maybe not true end material.

Overall kind of a weak way to end the game, but I didn't hate it. I think he would have been better as a regular route. Shiraishi or Okazaki would have probably been the best choices for true end characters.

[laxyaklovesloz]

The Legend of Zelda: Real Courage | Chapter Twenty-One: Child Isle

When Lila woke the next day, she was surprised Lady Ganondra wasn't the one yelling her awake. Instead, it was unusually quiet. She hoped that wasn't a bad sign. She noticed something on her desk that wasn't there last night. As she sat up on her bed, she saw that it was a note.

Lady Ganondra requests you journey to Mother and Child Isle next, she read. There you are to acquire the Cloak of Shadows. Lady Ganondra expects you back in three days. Do not disappoint her again. -Nabooru

Three days? The trip to the coast took at least half a day. Lila quickly readied herself for the task.

The sun had set at least an hour before Lila reached the shore. Lila tested the water. She had only been to the ocean a few times before for training. Now she was glad for it because she had to swim to Mother and Child Isle.

After surveying for the best part of the beach, Lila waded into the ocean. She aimed for the beach on "Child Isle." She didn't know why the Isle had two names. "Child Isle" was the lower part of the island and the only way to access it. "Mother Isle" was like a tower, with every side a steep cliff. Lila guessed the strip of land between the two used to be underwater which would make them separate islands. However, that begged the question: Did the sea level fall or the island rise?

Not that it really mattered.

Upon reaching the beach of Child Isle, the strong wind produced by the shape of the island began teasing at Lila's clothes. She felt a chill from the air hitting her wet self. She donned her newly procured boots and pushed forward.

Because of the wind, Lila had never before been able to travel much farther than the rocky beach. Nabooru brought her here to train her leg strength a few times. Now with the Boots of Sturdiness, she was able to get inside the cave, leading to mystery. She took a breather at the mouth of the cave. The wind was minimal there, so she was able to take off the boots. She also lit her lantern because there was no other light. Her rattled breath echoed loudly on the rock walls.

"I wonder if this would be a safe place to sleep," she said aloud, wishing for the company of Mori. The weariness was starting to catch up with her, and she realized she missed the keese more than she thought possible.

"I'll just check out this cave a bit."

Lila walked deeper into the cave. She looked for torches along the wall but found none. It wasn't long before she came to a door. She wondered if she should open it or leave it alone.

"Maybe just a peek."

She pulled the door open and stood just short of entering. Inside was dark so she couldn't see much, but she could tell the dungeon went much deeper than sea level. She heard the roar of winds blowing in different directions but saw no evidence of a tornado. For that she was glad. Having satisfied her curiosity, Lila closed the door and returned to the mouth of the cave to sleep.

∴

The sun woke her in the morning. It didn't reach directly into the cave since it was angled slightly to the south, but the light and warmth were enough to get her going. She ate a small breakfast of dried meat and then continued on her quest.

Lila was surprised to see the dungeon had lit up from the sun. She noticed several shafts of light around the room. It was so bright, the area glowed like soft gold.

With the new light, she was better able to see the lay of the land. Three tiers of balcony ran around the perimeter, with Lila being on the top one. There was also a solid floor at the bottom. Holes in the walls lined up with the four cardinal points, but Lila could detect no other pattern. The holes were the source of the winds and some of the sunlight. There were also a few doors between the holes. Two other doors were on the same level as Lila, but one of them, the more ornate one across the room, had gaps in the platform on either side. She had no idea how she would be able to get there.

That left the other door. A wind tunnel was between her and the door. Lila put the boots back on to avoid getting blown off the edge. It was a long drop. Though the wind pushed against her, the boots kept her safely on the ground. She took off the boots before opening the next door.

∴

After several fights with hoards of keese ("I'm glad Mori isn't here to see this.") and larger kargaroc ("Those birds make the most annoying sound!"), Lila found herself on top of Child Isle. She had climbed a set of stairs around the outside of the island. Before reaching the top, she saw an extra large bird sleeping on the far side. It looked big enough to eat a horse for lunch. She couldn't see any evidence of treasure and wished Mori were there to tell her if this thing was worth fighting. Since there was nothing left for her to do in the dungeon, she decided to approach the nest.

"Hey, pretty bird," Lila said tentatively. "I think you have something I need, so will you wake up just a moment?"

She had awakened it. As the bird shifted and stretched, she saw that it was a smaller version of one of Lady Ganondra's pets: a helmaroc. Immediately she knew she had to fight it. The Helmaroc King was a very grumpy monster of a bird that only listened to Lord Ganondorf. That thing had injured her more than once.

Lila jumped back and readied her sword. When the helmaroc saw the light reflecting off the sword, it locked eyes on Lila. Suddenly she felt very small. Swallowing her fear, she lunged at the bird's neck.

The helmaroc cawed loudly and flapped its wings. Lila was buffeted to the ground as the helmaroc took flight. She stood up quickly, not wanting to be landed on. With the bird gone, she noticed something strange in the nest. She glanced up but didn't see the bird... until it rammed its beak into her back. Lila tumbled forward into the nest, the breath knocked out of her. She tucked into a fetal position until the helmaroc passed. Then she looked around for the object she had seen.

It was cylindrical with a set of hooks hanging out one end. The other end was hollow and big enough to fit her hand. She grabbed the object just as the helmaroc grabbed her. She almost dropped it in surprise, and then she shoved her hand inside. She felt a trigger at her finger, aimed at the helmaroc's head, and fired.

The hooks burst out with a chain keeping it attached and clamped on the bird. The helmaroc screeched and let go of Lila. Now she was dangling over the ocean, held up only by the new device she had. The helmaroc returned to its nest, and Lila released the trigger. The hooks let go, and she rolled to the ground.

When Lila stood up, she saw the helmaroc scratching at its injury. An idea formed in her mind. As quick as she could, she put on the Boots of Sturdiness. The helmaroc took flight before she had them completely secured. Once ready, she watched the helmaroc turn to come back at her. When it was in range, Lila fired the hooks.

"Yes!"

The hooks latched onto the helmaroc's tail. It reared back, trying to escape, but the boots kept Lila firm. She struggled with the bird for a bit like a fish on a line, and then she was able to overpower it. The helmaroc crashed to the ground next to her, and she pulled out her sword.

Of course, the first set of attacks was not enough. Eventually, the helmaroc struggled away from Lila and returned to the air. Lila readied herself for a second attempt.

The helmaroc was not the most intelligent of creatures. Lila was able to pull it down again and resumed her attack. This time the helmaroc was unable to escape, and Lila killed the monster. With another victory under her belt, Lila rested against the edge of the nest. The helmaroc disappeared in a cloud of dust like her other enemies. It left behind a key.

Having rested enough, Lila took the key and went back into the dungeon. She knew where this key went and wanted to continue without delay. If she wasted too much time, Lady Ganondra would be very angry with her. Possibly angrier than she had ever been before. She was extra agitated the last time they encountered each other, and Lila wondered if she was ready to be done with her. If she messed up in any way ever again, she worried it would be the end of her. Kotake and Koume had told her just as much.

They also threatened Zale.

Lila hurried to the other door.

[spotsupstuff]

"And that's- that's really the problem, right??" Six Ear stumbles through his words, possibly still unused to being so earnestly honest. Shā Dàlì taught him to talk, though, so he swallows his fumbling in favor of continuing.

"I'm falling in love with you!" He laughs as if he just told the most awkward joke in the history of jokes. "ME! At least I think so-." He points to himself, expression beyond distraught.

"I can't even tell if it's genuine-" he takes a deep shaky breath, "-or if... if I'm lusting after normalcy I've never had so badly that I'm trying to use you as a ticket to it."

For all that terrifying truth he only gets a long stare from Táng as a reward.

It's not that Táng is trying to be heartless about this, no no. The idea of doing that to a man who's been working on himself tirelessly for over a year is needlessly cruel. Not to mention- the man in question became his friend along the way.

Just... he would've never guessed it would end up like this.

Everybody else is sitting a bit away. Just far enough so they wouldn't hear their conversation, chatting at the fire of a grill and few lamps. Shā Dàlì had invited them all over to his beautiful boat-home for the night. Just to bond, to maybe sing songs badly while he strums along on his old bass so they can laugh about it. It was all nice and lighthearted until Six Ear gently tugged on his sleeve, slightly frowning, and asked him for a moment for just the two of them.

And after that confession, Táng himself isn't so sure what he thinks or feels about the black furred monkey monster sitting next to him as they overlook the calm sea. He can hear Six Ear's claws scraping against the railing lightly because of the nerves, but he doesn't feel rushed or threatened to answer as fast as possible.

And that's something, right? With Six Ear of all people?

Because with Six Ear of all people, everybody should be feeling threatened all the time. Or at least speaking in past tense, nowadays. Táng still remembers how much of a struggle it was to travel with him on board during their quest to stop the White Bone Spirit, of course. There were evenings when he thought he wouldn't be waking up the next day, with how violent the shadow monkey could get. Six Ear scared Táng and actively scarred Xiǎotiān- that always made his blood boil, to see Xiǎotiān shaking so so badly after a particularly bad encounter.

Táng remembers all the hurt. After all, he was usually the one who had to patch all the wounds up (along with chef Zhū and lǎo Shā, of course).

And still he's... there are still moments when Six Ear's old approaches poke through. Naturally. Those moments are always scary. Past is never not scary. But the thing is...

He shifts where he's sitting, getting more comfortable. He can see from the corner of his eye Six Ear glancing at him, looking suspiciously like an expectant puppy before straightening himself up and looking aggressively forwards at the ocean with an expression one would shoot a friend who's been "borrowing" DVDs for two years too long.

Táng snorts, the other's ears perk up at the sound and somehow the expression becomes even more intense.

That's really as good an example as any, isn't it?

The macaque has become sillier over the time. More easy to deal with, lighter in nature which is kind of ironic to say for the shadow. A year or so ago, during the Mid Autumn festival, Táng offered his friendship to the guy and ever since then it started spinning. Six Ear would be either specially cautious around him, probably afraid that a mistake could break the wobbly friendship bond they had going on, or he would be daringly brash about things, probably unused or disbelieving any of this could possibly last.

Táng started offering him some of his books and at first the monkey had been rather destructive towards those- bending the corners of the pages and sometimes he even went as far as to tear at the paper. The scholar's guess was this was supposed to be some kind of test of his patience, their "friendship" or some sort of self-sabotage. Characteristically, Táng one day simply offered to go and buy a stress toy for the other. He was confused, but allowed Táng to pull him along into the proper shop for that.

They ended up having to buy another one and then hex it so it wouldn't break, what with Six Ear's almost-equal-to-Sūn-Wùkōng's strength, but at the end of it all the toy did its job. And Six Ear seemed genuinely touched and listened when Táng suggested he should maybe pitch the destructive tendencies to Shā Dàlì.

So he listened. With all those ears, one would think it would come easier to him and yet..

From then on they've seemed to start growing somewhat closer. Now knowing the macaque monster wouldn't tear at his books, Táng resumed offering his favorite ones- recommending the ones he hadn't owned personally. It turned out that Six Ear himself was kind of a nerd. And that's what they bonded over mostly.

Thanks to their curiosity, they've reached for the same book and knocked their heads while doing it, talked about different cultures, gone to libraries- one day, Six Ear shapeshifted into human and came to the library Táng works at entirely just to ramble about the book that Táng had beamed to him about a two days ago.

'You already read it all???' Táng remembers asking.

To which, the yāoguài added slightly embarrassed: 'I... ...I got a little bit hooked, I'm not gonna lie.'

'That thing has over 800 pages!! Did you sleep at all???'

'...no. Now let me talk about the plot for an hour or so-'

Their friendship has gotten far enough that Six Ear has unfolded to the scholar in a manner that is almost scary for someone like him.

They've sat a few times deep into the night flipping through Six Ear's own books- things written over the centuries, diaries so he wouldn't forget he said, recipe books, poems, notebooks where he had written down everything he saw through his travels; all he'd translate just for Táng. That is a vulnerability that scares Táng, because he's fairly sure if he'd fuck up this whole friendship thing at this point, the monkey might retract into himself to the point he would never come out again.

And Táng is too compassionate and caring to be alright with that.

Slowly, he looks to Six Ear in present time.

Love... romantic one, at that, hmm.. He will admit he thought about the yāoguài in somewhat similar a vein like that- physically, Six Ear is very appealing- quite the eye candy. But Love love..? Not even Six Ear is apparently entirely sure of it. That alternative to the love kind of scares Táng, to be honest.

When it comes to his marriage to Zhū- he would absolutely need to have a talk with the chef about this, because despite their agreement to have their relationship largely open, what Six Ear might or might not be desiring is a level of commitment that might be out of the comfort zone. For either of them, really- Táng is definitely not going to be comfortable with it if chef Zhū won't be.

"Okay, listen." Táng stands up to be closer to the other, wrapping an arm around him, settling a hand on his shoulder. The macaque melts into the touch. "There's..." his free hand gestures vaguely as he searches for the right words. "There's a lot of... Stuff... in this that we should figure out first before- y'know, settling for something too solid."

Six Ear moves his head just enough so he can get a look at Táng. He doesn't say anything, waiting for the other one to continue.

"I definitely have to ask lǎo Zhū what he thinks about this first."

"Yes- yes, of course, that's-"

"Hey shush." Táng lifts one finger to silence the monster. "I'm going to ask him and you are going to figure out what your actual feelings about this are. I don't want to be just some 'ticket'."

He takes a deep breath, nodding to those conditions. "Then we will see?"

"Then we will see." Táng nods, taking a chance with flashing a little careful smile. "I'd be down to try it out. You've been working hard this past year on things and like..." Táng pulls Six Ear closer, squishing him a little bit against his own body as he fixes his glasses. The monster allows it without a second thought, only shifting his grip on the railing with his tail to adjust to the human's actions. "I can and do appreciate that. I enjoy your company."

At that Six Ear pointedly looks away, but Táng still can see a little trace of a blush on an ear. It prompts a little giggle from the scholar that only adds fuel to the flush.

"And if it won't work out, I'll still love to be your friend. I don't really wanna give that up- not even a bitsy."

[mango-bango-bby]

Hi Mommy, I’m sorry but maybe you would want to write something where Dragon Dabi demands a sacrifice and clueless darling is told by the village to pick mushrooms in that one cave? And then sees Dabi and he’s like „Oh, you Must be the sacrifice I ordered“. And darling begs not to be eaten and he’s like:“Nah, you’re cute, your my pet now”.

♡ Dragon Territory ♡

(A/N: First time actually publishing a fantasy au 🥳🥳 I love fantasy au sm!! Y/n in this gives my fairycore vibes 😤 Also, I got your other Dragon!Dabi request but I was super excited to write this one so I wrote it kinda fast cause I was just so excited!!!!)

Summary: Your village sends you on a quest to find some mushrooms. Why? You’re not exactly sure but you go anyways. Eventually you get a cave, not knowing it’s the territory of Dabi. The dragon who inhabits the woods (Yan!Dabi x GN!Reader)

❥ Fantasy au, Dragon!Dabi

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

“Bye bye!” You cheer, saving to some of your neighbors in your village. They’ve been acting weird with you lately, you’re not exactly sure why. Today they’ve sent you off to get some mushrooms. Maybe they would make some mushroom soup! You’re not sure but you hope so!

You walk around the forest, stopping every once and a while to inspect a flower or animal. You swing your wicker basket in your hand while you walk, stopping to grab every mushroom that you saw. The forest began getting deeper, the leaves from the trees causing large shadows around you. Everyone on your village told you to keep going straight until you found a large cave, so you keep walking. Looking down and around at the grass for more mushrooms, your eyes widen slightly.

There are footprints on the ground.

“Hello? Does anyone live around here?” You call out, afraid that you may have intruded on someone’s land or maybe even their home. You don’t want to be rude. You stand for a moment, getting no response other than the rustling of leaves and chirping of birds. After a minute you begin walking again, determined to get the mushrooms from the cave that your village was so adamant that you go get.

You look at looking at the mouth of a large cave. You gently enter into the cave, hearing your footsteps echoing through the cavern. It’s slightly intimidating, the large area being entirely empty and dark. Ah, a mushroom! You bend down to pick it up, plopping it into your basket. Only to be interrupted by a loud, deep, growl.

You let out a squeak, looking around the dark cavern. “H-hello?” You gently call, standing up and holding your basket close to your chest. You glance around until you catch a glimpse of something shiny. Scales. Oh no no no no, a dragons cave.

In front of you is a dragon, in his human form, staring down at you. Purple scars and metal piercings litter his body. Even in his human form, you can see his large horns, scaly neck, fangs, and pointy ears. Dabi only continues staring you. The village close by often sending him a sacrifice so he didn’t wreak havoc upon them. Damn, they really had to send the cutest person in the village for him to eat, huh?

“I-I’m really sorry, sir” you say, hoping that he will let you go even though you intruded on his territory. Dragons are known for being territorial and eating humans who get into their things. “I’m sorry, I p-promise I didn’t mean to steal from you!” You whimper, hoping that he’ll let you live. At least to say goodbye to your friends and neighbors.

He couldn’t eat you. He just knows he can’t. Why would he eat such a cute little thing? He’ll keep you, keep you in a chain, feed you, love on you. Yeah, that should work.

Dabi lets out a low hum at your words, it’s pathetic really but cute. “Don’t worry, dollface. I’m not gonna kill you” He says, watching you wipe your teary eyes with hope. “R-really?” You whimper, looking up at him with glossy eyes. Yeah, he would keep you. A pet of sorts he supposes. Or maybe a lover, it was almost breeding season after all and he needed a mate anyways.

“No. But you’re gonna stay here with me, angel” Dabi says, taking a step forward towards you “Hmm, my mate” he mumbles, a smirk crawling into his face. You only look up in fear. You’re probably not going to get out of this. This dragons grasp.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵ Thank you for reading, darling!!

[delimeful]

(dont) take this the wrong way (6)

warnings: misunderstandings, trauma responses, illness

-

Patton and Roman went in circles for a moment on who should carry Logan, eventually settling on Patton, since Roman was the quicker between the two of them and they were alarmingly unsure of what the small mer was planning— or how negatively that plan would affect the little guy.

Roman couldn’t help but be a little jealous anyways at the sight of the human pressing his tiny face against the palm of Patton’s hand, still mostly unconscious despite the jostling. It was unfairly adorable, and he never got to hang out with humans that weren’t terrified or fled at the sight of him.

Logan had started off scared too, sure, but after they’d cleared that little misunderstanding up, the human had shooed him away with an itty bitty stern look.

He’d listened, of course, he certainly owed these two that much, but internally he was gleeful at how bold Logan was when hanging out with them. Maybe he’d even come back and they’d learn more of his language and he could needle the nerd into telling him more about surface life—!

But of course, that required that he get better first.

It seemed obvious now, with the feverflush to his skin and the subtle tremor even as he slept, but the signs were so tiny on him, they might not have noticed for ages yet. He was inordinately grateful that the little mer had brought it to their attention, even if it also meant learning just how lowly the little guy thought of them.

When they returned from the air room, the tiny mer hadn’t twitched from his spot, though he looked as though he wanted to vibrate right out of his skin.

Agonizingly, he only seemed to get more stressed at the sight of Patton’s cupped hands, gaze darting between them for a moment before he flitted forwards and pressed an earfin to the makeshift airseal, staying in place only long enough to catch the sound of Logan’s little raspy breaths.

Roman opened his mouth, arms sliding up to gesture, and the tiny mer shot all the way back across the room like quicksilver. He had a moment to realize that with that speed, they’d never have ‘caught’ him in the first place if he hadn’t been trapped by that net, and then he felt immensely guilty for clearly spooking the little guy.

“How about you lead the way?” he asked, trying to distract their flighty little friend before he started tearing hair out. “The exit is one cave down, we’ll follow to wherever you think is the best place.”

He was shaking his head before Roman even finished. “No, I’ll follow, you— whoever stole him, you have to take him back to that beach. You remember... right?”

Roman turned to glance at Patton, who nodded firmly. “I’ll get us started then, kiddo.”

He cradled his cupped hands to his chest and swam deeper, easily twisting through the exit tunnel into the open ocean. Roman nodded at the little mer and followed, hoping that the little guy wouldn’t just vanish.

Only a moment later, he flitted out after them, and Roman caught the desperate longing that crossed his expression for a moment at the sight of wide open terrain. It vanished after a single glance at Patton’s cargo, replaced by a grim scowl.

If it weren’t for the human, Roman had the feeling that the mer would have turned and vanished, too quick and small for them to ever see again.

Instead, he hovered carefully out of lunging reach as they traveled, watching their every move with narrowed eyes. Every unconscious twitch of Patton’s hands seemed to make him flinch in response, as though he was expecting something horrible would happen to the human at any moment.

Normally, Roman would have been quite offended about this implied slight against Patton’s character, since his friend was just about the gentlest guy he knew. With circumstances what they were, however, he remained silent. He knew that this wasn’t really a reflection on Patton, but rather someone else entirely, a phantom presence that was still haunting the small mer.

Roman let out a breath of relief when they finally resurfaced, a human beach visible nearby. Patton unfolded his hands as soon as they were above water, and they both peered nervously down at the human.

“He doesn’t look like he’s gotten any worse,” Patton murmured, angling his hands so their small tagalong could see as well. “This is fairly close to the beach I found him at!”

“It seems the early hour has served us well,” Roman added, making sure not to gesture as he usually would. “There doesn’t appear to be anyone else around. Should we set him on the beach?”

The tiny mer jolted when he realized that they were both looking to him, flitting back and forth in nervous motions. “Uh, yeah— Yes. But be careful. And make sure you put him high enough that the tide can’t drag him back.” He continued in an undertone, “With his luck, it’ll be ages before another human appears.”

“I’ll do it!” Patton announced, already pushing forwards to shallower waters. “Roman’s likely to beach himself if he goes too far inland, and that’s shore to make things difficult!”

Roman groaned, flicking his fingertips at the siren. “That was one time! One-time incidents don’t qualify for pun-based bullying!”

Patton’s muffled laughter got quieter as he shifted to lay vertically, scooting forwards until his chest was scraping the sand and his arm could extend to set Logan gently against the beach incline. Logan’s head lolled to the side, but he seemed unlikely to go anywhere, and was in plain sight of anyone passing by.

Roman glanced down at the tiny mer, who was staring over the waves at the human, finally looking a little less stiff and stressed.

Patton wiggled back until he could tread water upright again, sharing a little cheer with Roman at a successful quest. Their guest’s tension returned immediately, that little shadowed gaze snapping back onto them.

Roman and Patton exchanged a glance, uncertain of how to proceed, but before anyone could speak, they heard a small, hacking cough.

Logan was awake, just a little too late for him or Patton to say goodbye. He probably wouldn’t have understood, but it would have been nice anyhow. Roman watched as he rolled to something resembling upright, his limbs trembling weakly. He was looking back and forth, not just noticing the new decor, but searching.

Roman glanced down to the small mer, who had set his shoulders and continued looking firmly away from the beach. He sunk a little lower in the water, trying to make eye contact. “Would you like to go and say goodbye before he leaves? Or, tell him what’s going on, perhaps?”

He shook his head once, sharply, and Roman felt a little pang of sympathy at the way his ear fins kept angling back at every noise the human made.

Logan was calling out now, the same word repeated at increasing levels of urgency. “Virgil?”

The mer still refused to glance back. “I’m not breaking the deal. You upheld your half, and you’re going to keep upholding it, and I’ll uphold mine. I’m not going anywhere.”

He’d drifted closer to Roman as he spoke, but it didn’t feel like any sort of progress. He’d tucked all those extra flares and frills away, smoothing himself down as though he was calm— or resigned.

Roman glanced up at the beach, where Logan still called. As he listened, that little voice cracked midword, desperation slowly turning to despair. He moved to cup his hand underneath the little mer, his heartstrings pulling at the way he let out a slow, shaky breath and closed his eyes, even as Roman lifted him up from the ocean entirely.

Patton opened his mouth as if to speak, but Roman met his eyes and shook his head, promising with his gaze alone that he knew what he was doing. His friend glanced down at the little guy worriedly, but held his tongue.

With one strong push, Roman slid up to the beach’s edge, grimacing slightly as the water became shallower and shallower. His arms were longer than Patton’s, though, and so he had little trouble reaching over and depositing his handful of seawater & tiny mermaid directly next to Logan.

“Virgil!” the human said, relieved, and he reached out to latch onto the mer, confirming Roman’s name suspicions.

‘Virgil’ had yelped like a baby seal upon being upended onto the beach, and he was now blinking between Roman and Logan with an air of extreme bewilderment.

“Virgil,” Logan said again, now in a very different tone. He wore a tiny, furious expression as he launched into what sounded like a somewhat-feverish lecture. He also reached over and pulled the mer into a hug, confirming Roman’s ‘he had no idea Virgil was going to pull this’ suspicions.

Roman was so right about so many things today. Everyone should listen to him all the time!

He wriggled back a little, intending to give them some privacy to talk, and made absolutely no progress. Uh oh. He glanced down at the others.

“I am just a little bit, slightly, somewhat, completely beached again,” he told them, his face growing hot. “I hope you two appreciate that I did this even though Patton is absolutely never going to let me live this down.”

“Need me to reel you back in, kiddo?” Patton called, right on cue. Roman sighed, planting his face in the crook of his elbow for a moment.

“Just a moment,” he called, and then met Virgil’s wide eyes from over Logan’s shoulder. “It seems like there’s still much for you both to discuss, my undersized acquaintances. We shouldn’t stay so close to land for long, but I imagine you’ll feel better if you keep him company until someone comes for him, right?”

Logan’s brief spark of energy seemed to be flagging, but every time Virgil attempted to disengage from the hug, he clung on tighter. After a brief moment of hesitation, Virgil conceded to the clinginess and simply nodded at Roman, still half-braced for something awful.

Roman gave him his most reassuring smile. “Then that’s what you’ll do. You know where to find me or Patton, if you need us!”

“Really?” Virgil asked, hands fisting in the back of Logan’s shirt. “You’ll let me-- you’ll leave us alone? Just like that?”

Roman nodded, lips twisted in sympathy. “Just like that.”

Virgil’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, fins flattened against the sides of his head-- and then he took a deep breath, loosened his grip just slightly, and nodded back.

[bangtanfancamp]

∴ summary: After spending a gloomy afternoon  trying to get out of your own head alone , you finally seek out your boyfriend for help

∴ masterlist

∴ one shot

∴ pairing: Kim Namjoon x reader

∴ word count: 2k

∴ rating: pg-13

∴ genre: soft angst, comfort, established relationship

∴ warnings: oc is struggling with something akin to depression, it’s alluded to but not explicitly stated

∴ author’s note: this is incredibly self indulgent and was written in one go. I’ll edit later. I’d rather have it here to share sooner in case anyone needs it as much as me.

─────────────────────

“Joonie, what are you doing? Are you busy?” Your voice comes out small as you peak around the corner into his office, sweater pawed knuckles sneaking around the edge of the door frame.

He doesn’t look up at first. Perhaps you really were too quiet. Or maybe he’s just that immersed in his book. It’s not a cover you’ve seen before so it very well may be the latter. You know how he is when he has a new thing to get lost in. Ever your astronaut adrift, exploring the moons just beyond whatever new world he’s found.

He looks so at home now. Cozy in his den of words and letters. Perfectly domestic amidst lofty thoughts and paragraphs. His skin is mostly bare today, his coordinated tank top and shorts exposing a golden expanse of toned arms, long legs . They’re folded up and crossed, a little boy lost in wonder as he sits on his futon.

His hair is a warm chestnut this week, fringe too long around the lashes but too short to pull back. The way it refuses to cooperate when he brushes it out of his eyes, trickling silkily, stubbornly back into place, exactly where it wants to be, makes you want to chuckle.

He still hasn’t noticed you’re there. Too far gone in whatever his newest philosophy is to notice the way you study the dip of his furrowed brow, how it juxtaposes against the relief of his shadowed dimples, smiling even as he frowns. He finds so much pleasure in being studious— just for fun. No matter how much concentration it takes. You’ve always admired that about him. Admired everything about him really.

Clearing your throat, though you hate to interrupt him, you try again. 

“Joonie?”

 Somehow it’s even quieter than before, and as he turns another reverent page, you know you’ll have to physically intervene to interrupt him. You sigh. You hate to break the spell. He loves days like this—with the rain trickling down the window’s glass casting shadows on his focused face— he’s so happy to read when it rains.

He leans forward then without looking up to take a sip of his Earl grey, bumbling when the steam unexpectedly fogs his glasses. He laughs at himself, folding his book so it splays across the seat to mark his place and removing his glasses. It’s the first time he’s looked up. He spots you then, his face splitting into the smoothest “there’s my girl” smile you’ve ever seen.

“Hey… how long have you been standing there?” His voices comes low, warm, soothes something in you that desperately needs rest.

“Long enough to see you blind yourself with tea, it seems.” You try to smile back, but it’s a weak, floppy thing. Your cheeks can’t seem to commit so it falls a bit too flat. His brows pinch when he sees it. Something’s amiss.

“Hey… are you okay?” His inscrutable eyes analyze you, and you let him. Too tired to resist or put up a fight.

“It’s not my day, joonie.” Your voice is pitiful, even to your own ears. You’d normally wince at sounding like this in front of anyone else. But honestly, it’s okay. It’s Namjoon you’re with. You don’t have to play games or hide things. Not here. Not with him.

“Yeah?” His eyes catch yours as his palms rub the tops of his thighs. It’s an invitation. You know the gesture by now.

“Yeah… again. There have been so many of these lately,” you say, crossing the room to him, his arms unfolding to welcome you into them. “They come too often and stay too long. They’re terrible house guests. I’m tired of them, joon. I can’t seem to get rid of them.”

You’re scooped against him now, head on the space between his neck and his chest, fingers twisted into his tank top, bum in his lap, knees tucked up til you’re as small as you can get. There’s a broad palm of his on your back, fingertips on his other hand traveling the length of your arm in tender caresses as his cheek rests atop your head.

“Maybe we should start charging them rent. I bet even they can’t afford to pay that in this economy.” He offers the idea solemnly, fully committed to carrying out the metaphor that your mental health really is just an unfortunate airbnb plagued with hideously mannered squatters.

“You know, I love that about you, Joon.”

“My inability to pay rent?”

You nuzzle a sappy no into the heat of his neck,” dummy, your very real ability to never minimize things that are hard to me.”

The dip of his chest as he exhales is oddly soothing. It makes you feel like you’re being rocked and god if you don’t need to be cradled right now. “Things  have been really hard lately, haven’t they?” He wonders aloud.

“It isn’t just my perception?” You look up, eyes entirely too pitiful, too round to belong to a functioning adult. No, Namjoon’s heart goes soft as he realizes he’s looking at the eyes of a very scared four year old you. The haunted gaze of an innocent girl who never got told everything would be alright. Even without knowing any more than that, it makes him want to cry.

“No, my sweet girl, it’s not.” Closing his eyes, he presses somber lips to your forehead, scooping you close to shield you— from the world, from yourself, from all the insidious things that took root in you so long ago you’re not even sure how they got in. His wide hands grip you tighter, a feeble attempt to help hold you altogether.

It’s silent then. A few beats of quiet, only disrupted by the clumsy clatter of irreverent raindrops on glass. His caress stays steady against your soft sleeves, his languid fingers perpetually in motion as he attempts to soothe the wounds that sit just beneath your skin.

You look up at him again, unsure what you’ll find. 

You almost cry when you see the gentleness in his eyes. No judgment anywhere within them. Just something kind that stretches into the lines his eyes carve as he smiles. How you itch to gently peel his horn rimmed glasses off the tip of his button nose and kiss it. Bless him.

God, you don’t know why he’s so nice to you, but you’re so glad that he is. The smile you give back to him is wobbly, trembly, poorly constructed— but so so sincere that it makes your sad eyes shine. He bumps your nose with his, burying himself against your forehead as you cocoon into him.

You want to ask him what he’s reading, listen intently to him as he tells you all about it, but you know you can’t. You can’t decipher anything today. It all feels too heavy. You can’t carry the weight of anything new with hands already full. At this point, you’ve lived in this soft hoodie of his , the one you stole after his tour two years back because it smelled like him, for the past 3 days. You don’t even have the energy to change. With that kind of retention rate, seems there’s no point in asking your brilliant professor to explain anything.

Still, it’s always so nice to hear his voice. Especially with your ear to his chest like this. 

So you ask anyway.

“Will you read to me, Joonie? Life always feels better when you’re reading.” You press your face deep into the copper of his neck, an open mouthed kiss placed against his pulse.

“It’s all kind of theoretical,” he chuckles. He’s bashful. If holding you weren’t occupying his hands, you know they’d be nervously fiddling with the back of his neck. A nerdy boy with a too big brain hesitant to share his discoveries.

“Is it good though? You’ve already read Jung to me, and I stayed awake through that. I think I deserve more credit.” You poke his throat with your nose. You’re not genuinely affronted, it’s just nice to remind him you're competent too. Sometimes.

His sweet chuckle then is earthy and rich, all dark molasses. “True. You actually gave pretty good feedback for that too. Fine. Didn’t mean to underestimate you. Just… bear with me if it feels odd? I haven't read it before. I can’t vouch for it all yet.”

“Fine by me. I’m just here for the cuddles and my Kim Namjoon audiobook.”

He can feel your smile against his skin. It makes him press you just that extra little bit tighter against him, exhaling soft through his nose when he feels you return the gesture.

Scooping up his paperback, he adjusts his glasses where they’ve slipped down his nose, clearing his throat to project like the narrator he claims he’s not but loves to be. He’s quiet for a few more beats. You can hear pages rustling as you sink against his skin. You imagine he must be trying to find where he was when you interrupted, or perhaps searching for a passage that seems apropos. Which he chooses, you don’t know, but you can feel when he settles, just before his caramel voice sweetens the thin air of the room.

“It's the same with the wound in our hearts,” he begins. “ We need to give them our attention so that they can heal. Otherwise the wounds continue to cause us pain. Sometimes for a very long time. We're all going to get hurt. But here's the trick - they also serve an amazing purpose. 

When our hearts are wounded that's when they open. We grow through pain. We grow through difficult situations. That's why you have to embrace each and every difficult thing in your life.”

You aren’t sure when your eyes opened, not sure when they began to glaze over or when you started to cry. But you did. And you are. The salty things dripping down against Namjoon’s silken skin. Your sweatered knuckles try to knock them away, but to no avail. Your cheeks are still a wet mess and now his collarbone is too.

“Joon, what is this? What are you reading?”

“Oh… um, it’s— terribly long title but— Into the Magic Shop: A Neurosurgeon's Quest to Discover the Mysteries of the Brain and the Secrets of the Heart. Isn't that a mouthful?” his laugh is self deprecating, small, but still the most beautiful sound.

God, you hate how sensitive and soft you are right now. You don’t want to be sitting here at 4pm in your boyfriend’s lap crying over a paragraph in a book you've never even heard of before, but here you are.

“ is that… what the whole book is about ?”

“You know, I don’t know. I haven’t read it all yet. Jackson recommended it, I’m just now getting to it. Why - do you not like it? I can put this down. Read you something else if this is too heavy. You always like the poetry. I can grab that one anthology you like.”

You can feel as he starts to shuffle beneath you, eager to track down new reading material for you, afraid he’s scared you off, when the fluttering weight of your palm tethers him to his spot.

“No, stay. Keep reading. I want to hear the rest.”

You can practically hear him smile. Relieved. Can feel his dimples manifest without even trying. He kisses your hair, tilts your chin up to kiss you too. The complexity of bergamot and black tea making his supple lips even more bewitching than normal. The window in the corner is cracked open, the humidity it leaks in making your skin sticky as you lean against him.

He’s lovely like this. The rain soaked air mixing with his natural scent, a broad hand on your chin, warm thumb beneath your lip as you mold pliant into his kiss. He ends it with a peck to your lips, a tap of his nose to your nose, before hoisting you so close against him you just may fuse together.

And he reads. He reads until he’s exhausted. Til the rain has stopped, and you’ve drifted to rest pressed against the skin of his chest.

He folds the book shut once your breathing has stilled, his thumb marking the page as he tips you both to lay down sideways. As he extends his pinprick tingling legs for the first time in ages, you hoist yourself around him in your sleep like a koala, and he chuckles. That’s usually his move.

He kisses your hair then, traipsing fingers tenderly through the escaped bits of it that brush across your cheeks. He wonders if you know how madly in love with you he is. How often he’s wondered what he’d do without you. Today, like most days lately, your light was dim, but still kelvins brighter than anyone else’s.

He sends a silent thank you to whatever deity arranged things in such a way that he can hold you to his chest like this as the daylight saving’s darkness floods his studio office. You seemed so sad today, but he knows it won’t last forever. It’ll pass. It always does. He’ll just hold you until it does. And then some.

[yanderenightmare]

Oh master, plez, DRAGON WARRIOR BAKUGO, my lord! I was thinking, if you please, a darling who is like clairvoyant, and that's why King bakugo needs her??? can you make it dark ;3 like like like whatever means necessary dark, like like like ill murder anyone who gets in my way, also also also it being really grotesque, I want merciless bakugo, BUT also kinda sweet when it comes to darling?? I don't know what exactly I want, but I know whatever you write I'll prob enjoy, Master Nightmare :3

DRAGON ! WARRIOR ! KING BAKUGO KATSUKI x FEM ! READER

goodiebag WARNINGS: abuse, violence, genocide, kidnapping, abduction, death, blood, murder, ableism, classism, anxiety, arson, narcissistic personality disorder, slavery, trauma, war

so, a little foreword, the darling in this story has a quirk (ik, I’m breaking my beliefs thinking Bakugo should have a quirkless reader! The insanity!) but it’s because in this au not it’s quite special to have a quirk. Quirks are achieved and not given so to say. So Katsuki has earned his quirk and reader has earned her quirk, and so has everyone else who has a quirk. Also the song is called “If I Had a Heart” by Fever Ray, it’s the theme song to vikings ironically haha.

PART TWO

MUTE AND NUDE

The King was in her village.

Word from the south spread quickly, like any wildfire would, especially when riding the wings of a dragon. The Kingdom’s seer was dead, and the almighty bruise-knuckled King required a new one. They called it misfortune, but give a child a toy, and the toy is destined to break. Some might say that that’s what they’re made for. The old toy had apparently done something so distasteful that it cost her own tongue. Unfortunately, or perhaps ironically the only thing she was useful for: on her knees, mouth open, worshipping her king.

She counted the smoke rising to the sky near the horizon. Hers would be the thirteenth village they came to, lest their quest was done. She thought she might have seen him in the cloud-coverage. Eerie shadows resembling what bats she found in the caves, but the sun was bright and could easily be mistaken for him, or the other way around, as she’s heard his coat is golden.

She heard the rumbling tumbling of hooves and paws and claws riding up the mountain-side. They were coming.

Their houses were made of rock, sturdy as they should be when placed on a mountain-top with constant winds howling at them, and handled the fire well. But people aren’t made of stone. The smell of burning flesh is awful, and though she had nothing to puke, she barfed nonetheless. People were screaming and she probably would have too if she could, she was most certainly crying and bleeding and heaving for breath like those unlucky others that were still left alive.

High mountains are a bleak habitat for animal life, partially why they lived up there: to be spared of being hunted, to escape fangs and claws. And now: people running for their lives, the aching in her ankles, a body not built for running, and a mind not used to being hunted. Yet, it was strange but, it wasn’t really foreign at all.

She’d been dreaming of things lately, and as death as well as dust and ash and blood settled and seeped into the mud around her, she couldn’t help but feel as though she’d seen it all before. In fact, there came a point in the middle of the fray she was certain she was dreaming as she stopped to eye the great golden mass in front of her. Scales sharp and silvery like mica on the mountainside, ruby-red eyes as though soaked with blood. Teeth long and sturdy like the jagged rocks of the tunnels, dripping not with water as they did in the caves but with blood and guts and torn clothes. And the talons, curved and shiny, black as night, digging into the gravel by his feet, treating the soil as though it were as thin as the air. But the wings… the wings are what had her falling to her knees, skin bitten by gravel. Greater then roofs, sweeping the sky as though he could pluck each and every star from the welkin, stud himself with them if he so wanted to, or swallow them if only to breath the light onto earth. He could shred trees with those wings, he could slice oceans apart, he could probably part the mountain, head in the heavens and roots with hell, the bridge that had stood for thousands of years, singlehandedly torn open by that great monster conquering both sky and earth as though they gave him life.

Her arm was bleeding. It had dentures, no… puncture wounds it seemed the more she looked. A pretty crescent moon of red marking deep into the soft tissue of her meager muscles, dripping onto the dirt, creating streaks in the mud caking her bare feet. She looked up to see a wolf turn into a man, a large man with spikes for hair, red but not the same red she’d seen earlier in those eyes, red like poppies far away from the red flowing in her veins, from what was leaking out of her arm.

She looked forward and saw bodies… no, not bodies… mangled mockeries of the human form strewn about her as though they were trampled wildflowers on a field. She looked to her side and saw her reflection in the faces of those she’d grown up with but never truly knew. She looked behind her, not spotting what abomination of life she’d seen earlier, the one painting the sky, the one eclipsing the sun.

Every young, pretty thing was lined up on a row that stretched about ten meters long as they weren’t that many in her village, and she was surprised to be one of them. The auditions began in the early left side of the fray, boys and girl shaking on unsteady knees, holding onto broken arms and gushing wounds. Her bitemark was begging for a fist around it too, but she had not the focus to indulge the wish as her eyes caught sight of a blot of gold contrasting the otherwise grey figures, it being clear who he was despite having altered form. Although not the tallest in stature, one could see it as clear as day, he towered over the rest of the flock.

The tones ripped from their throats were scratchy, untuned; garbage. It would seem none of the kids in the village were gifted, but if the Gods were of mercy they would grant them the vocal cords to survive the night. She couldn’t blame them for allowing their fear to taint their song. Seeing how the drapes in which the hooded figures dressed were soaked in blood from past failures. Knowing well how their weapons would breach flesh and bone were they not of any use to them.

If she had a voice she would use it for speaking and not for singing. This would probably be her last night.

They rushed through the girls and boys rather quickly. Swiftly; as if they had done it countless times before, as if they could decide by the first utterance of their very first tone, that they were a disappointment, that they were as good as dead.

Caught in the middle of the small gathering; her turn came along. The man, standing in front, had purple hair and a nasty scar on his face, adorned with bladed eyes like a cat. Another blade, a steel blade, was held at her throat. Unnecessary, as the brutal scarring of his arms was intimidating enough for her to understand she could survive nothing compared to what he had already lived through. “Sing.” He commanded abruptly, an atmosphere of force settled on the word, as though compelling her, quite like how the wind shakes the trees in command to dance for them.

She did her hand gestures as smooth as she could under the pressure, lips remaining closed.

He threw his eyebrows up, scar shifting in its place like a serpent, the message had clearly gotten across. A condescending smile, a most sinister snicker and an unfortunate scoff was all the sympathy he allowed her. “No voice?” It wasn’t a question. “What a meaningless life.” He stated in a mutter, before moving onto the next girl.

The golden figure, who had followed discreetly, didn’t continue on with the scarred boy, he instead planted his clawedfeet in front of the girl, threatening to crush her barefooted toes, sinking into the red clay of the town square. “Sing.” His voice was fuller, and because of it she didn’t dare look up.

The scarred boy came to a halt, looking back to watch the girl repeat the hand gestures once again, she thinking that maybe the scarred boy had blocked the view the first time.

“No excuses.” His foot shifted in the mud, talons somehow growing longer as they impaled the ground, indicated he leant in closer. “Sing.” He said again, the sharpness of the demand sending a shiver to travel down her spine as it was accompanied with a growl too much like the sound of thunder to be called human. The girl furrowed her brows and looked up, her bottom lip visible quaking. Yet, what looked at her was no dragon, no… it was a man, a boy. And his skin was not golden like the rarity found in the mountain halls, but tan like sand, and his hair was only a shade lighter, nothing alike the mane of the sun. But those eyes had her quaking, those sharp slitted eyes that seemed to hold her soul in a chokehold, full of cultivated knowledge, merciless, red like wine, red like blood, red like hell. What’s a fate worse than death? She wondered and swallowed at the thought, her breathing picking up its pace. “Sing!” Spit flew to her face like venom with the roar, the tone reverberating through the ground, shaking in her knees.

She felt the itch in her throat, and she would be lying if she said she hadn’t been feeling it more and more lately, the feeling of dead born words somehow washing away. Her whimpers, absent of anything except for breathiness before, now carrying a somewhat lilt of tone. She stared a little deeper into those blood-soaked orbs of the man that looked like the onset of death before her.

“If I had heart.”

The wind roared as if it were as surprised as she was, or perhaps it rejoiced, or perhaps it mourned.

She was silent, the wind crashing and flailing, whipping the rags of her dress, letting the ripped fabric lick her dirty and bruised legs, pulling the disheveled locks of hair out from her face. Eyes; terror-wide, looking into a pair of sharp ones, who seemed to be looking beyond her disheveled state, into something far more divine than she had ever seen, ever known. “Continue.” The red-eyed boy commanded firmly, a detectable form of lust in his voice.

Startled, feeling the gravel dig into her soles. “I would love you... if I had a voice, I would sing.” The people on either side of her looked to be even more distressed now, crying and screaming, looking like wraiths in those charcoaled rags they wore, hands covering their ears as though to protect themselves, terrified as they looked to the sky expecting it to come falling down upon them.

However, their insolence and disrespect wasn’t what angered him, he could allow them that much before he took their lives. But the conflict found in her voice, that’s what truly boiled beneath his skin. He reached out his hand, quick like a viper, the pressure in his fingertips simmering on her skin, sizzling with heat, only for him to dig his fingernails into her throat as well. “Forget everything you know, except for that your life is in the palm of my hand.” He said, securing her gaze, lifting her up to her tippy-toes, though still nowhere near leveling his height.

Awakened by his words and frightened to her bones by the searing look of his eyes, she did as she was told and forgot who she was, forgot what she was and gave into simply doing exactly what needed to be done to keep her alive, to keep what beast in front of her subdued, or perhaps also to satiate what fire seemed to have burst to life inside of her, screaming to be heard. “After the night, when I wake up, I’ll see what tomorrow brings.” Eyes glazed over by some infernal light. She roared, a howl of some sorts, and the trees seemed to shiver and shake in the outmost reverence. “More, give me more, give me more.”

Somehow the leaves stopped rustling at the sound of her abrupt finish. Overwhelmed; all she could do was breath, all she could to was quake, the wind making the tears ever present on her face, the blood of her arm drying and awakened again as new blood came gushing out of her wounds.

The swirling dramatics in his eyes died down into a calm yet eerie content look. “Found you.” He stated, taking his time for the awakening to soak in, bask in the glorious feeling of triumph, before breaking focus from her. He let out a long, satisfied sigh. “Burn the village.” The statement left her blood turning cold. “There’s nothing left for us here. Dispose of the disappointments.” He was quick with his words as though they had been said many times before, and the actions performed by the ones in grey were just as swift, just as merciless. Humans turning into monsters murdering humans.

“No!” She wasn’t aware the voice belonged to her, so many years gone by without being able to voice anything; an opinion; nothing more than a foreigner, let alone an objection.

The people beside her dropped to the floor like rag dolls nonetheless, her voice just as insignificant as if she was still voiceless, drowning in their own bloodied throats. Her throat didn’t match theirs, but had strong, calloused fingers wrapped around it instead, coated with blood, the stench of it becoming so familiar yet far from friendly.

“Forget them, they don’t matter.” His voice still sheer, despite the screams around them both, overwhelming in fact. She felt her mind slip away from her then, as though her sentience was squeezed out from her by the deadlock fist wrapped around her neck, a conquering drowsiness following, seeping into her like the crawling of darkness when the sun settles on the horizon, her vision blurring everything except for those red, red eyes, who; from this point until her death, would never leave her.

PART TWO